Walk Softly And Carry A Big Lightsaber
by Mercutio
Summary: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan. What would a Jedi apprentice really do if he discovered he was in love with his master?


SUMMARY: Adult content, sexual situations. Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan. What would a Jedi apprentice *really* do if he discovered he was in love with his master?

NOTE: This contains a few scenes that may trouble the faint of heart -- in the main, frank discussion of masturbation with children, and a description of masturbation performed by an underaged participant. It's necessary to the plot, and handled, I believe, non-gratuitously.

ARCHIVE: Please. As often as possible and wherever you like.

Walk Softly And Carry A Big Lightsaber,  
by Mercutio  
Part One

The problem was, he was afraid.

A Jedi should not be afraid. Fear was a path to the Dark Side. He'd been told that for years, and to the extent that youth would allow, he believed it. He hadn't known much about the Dark Side of the Force when living at the Academy -- oh, he'd had lessons, he'd heard about it, but it was not something that had touched him directly. He had lived with the Jedi since he was a baby, and had never known anything but that sheltered life.

Until he'd failed to be selected as a padawan. Until he'd left the Academy, unknowingly at the side of the man who would be his master. The encounter with Xanatos, a Jedi turned to the Dark Side, had shocked Obi-Wan to the core.

But even then, for a long while, innocence had clung to him, and his master had protected him from that which he could not understand.

But he understood now. He was not a child, and it was obviously time for him to begin wrestling with the full force of fear and anger and every other negative emotion on his own. If he had not been ready, Qui-Gon would have told him so. Obi-Wan trusted his master absolutely.

As a padawan should. As he should.

He was under attack by his own emotions, had felt this growing into him slowly. At first, it'd been nothing. Nothing to fear. Qui-Gon had dealt calmly with him and his sexual awakening, along with his training and everything else that Obi-Wan needed to know. His master had added his own calm guidance to the teachings the Academy had given him years before when the pre-pubescent Obi-Wan had not yet fully understood what his teachers were trying to tell him. He remembered now their words. "Pleasuring oneself is natural. It is a good thing, a thing to enjoy and a gift that can aid you in being one with life itself. If you try to block it off or lock it away, you are blocking off your own body's natural rhythm. It would be like trying to stop breathing. A Jedi may, with discipline, learn to overcome these things for a while, but breathing, like this, is something you must do. It is, however, a private thing. Something to do alone until you are much older. Think and remember."

He'd spent adolescence as a gawky youth, with touching himself growing steadily from more than just a pleasant experience to a sometimes embarrassing and overwhelming necessity. His member would swell against his will when he least wanted it to.

He remembered a time, after discovering his own inability to control his erections, when he had been relaxing in their quarters. Qui-Gon had been away, and Obi-Wan had a bit of free time. He knew Qui-Gon would want him to use the time wisely, but he had been unable to. Lying back on his cot, vivid fantasies had gone through his mind. The woman who had brought them to their room on this new planet -- her skin quite visible through the light material she had worn, her breasts dampening the cloth in the heat... He began stroking himself through the rough fabric of his trousers. He was already erect. The woman's chest dissolved into the image of naked skin, a lot of naked skin -- he had a vivid mental picture now of his master, whom he had seen naked many times. And that had done it, that was enough to bring him right over the edge. He'd had to change his clothes and shower, and yet Qui-Gon had still known. Obi-Wan had been desperately ashamed. Only the vague memory of his early lessons at the Academy had kept him from begging for forgiveness, even though they also convicted him of a worse crime. Masturbation might be all right if done in privacy, but while he had been alone, there was little true privacy between a master and apprentice, less so when the apprentice had been thinking of his master and very likely, completely neglecting to shield.

Obi-Wan smiled now, thinking of that time, and how naive he had been. Qui-Gon had spoken to him, explaining things simply but clearly. Qui-Gon had sat down, placing himself more on a level with his apprentice, and then, solemnly said, "Yes, Obi-Wan, I know what you were doing. And you were not wrong. You have done just as you should." Qui-Gon had reiterated the lesson Obi-Wan had received at the Academy, and then proceeded to teach him how to shield himself better, and how to quietly alert his master that he needed more privacy so that Qui-Gon could himself close off, if necessary.

That had been a vast relief, and indeed, Obi-Wan had trusted his master even more after that. An emotional bomb had been defused.

But now... now he was an adult. And the situation he was in now, while superficially similar, was in actuality far different.

At 22, he was considerably less at the mercy of his physical desires, and in any case, easily capable of finding partners if he wished for them. Those who were not awed into fright by his identity as a Jedi apprentice were frequently curious and captivated by that same status.

Simple, easy sex, no trouble to obtain, and as varied as he liked. There was little need for him to make a commitment -- he and Qui-Gon rarely stayed in one place for very long. Even their visits to the Jedi Academy were relatively brief.

And none of it was enough. None of it gave him what he needed, something to fill the empty ache inside him.

He'd become growingly aware of that ache, that need. Sex did not satisfy it, had not satisfied it for a long time. Being among the Jedi helped. Closeness to Qui-Gon helped, too, although his master was both more open and less open to him than he had been when Obi-Wan was a boy. That lack of openness was a part of training and, Obi-Wan knew, part of his own growing up. Qui-Gon was preparing him for when he would be on his own as a Jedi Knight, when he would proceed to the "journeyman" level of his training. He and Qui-Gon were more in sync now, able from long years of association, trust, respect, and practice to mesh easily into rapport when it was necessary... and yet that closeness, that sharing, the simple affection that Obi-Wan craved came less and less. Treasured all the more for it, but still rare.

It had taken him a long time to realize, though, that the terrible emptiness inside was not because he feared leaving Qui-Gon, or even that he wanted more affection and support than he was getting. Not exactly.

A very long time indeed to realize that he loved Qui-Gon, mind, body, and soul, and that his emptiness was the part of him that desperately wanted love in return.

Fine. Just fine. Obi-Wan stretched, allowing the blood to move more freely through his muscles and his body before returning to his meditative trance. He had fallen in love.

He hurt. And he was afraid.

Afraid that this was something he could not tell his master, afraid that the pain inside him was already turning him toward the Dark Side. Afraid that Qui-Gon already knew his feelings, and afraid that he did not. Afraid most of all that this would change something in their relationship, would cut his master off from him emotionally, that the Qui-Gon Obi-Wan cherished would disappear. Or even, more harshly, that he might be given a new master instead, and be forced to deal that way with his inappropriate feelings. Afraid that he was only infatuated, that he loved Qui-Gon only because they were so close, and because Qui-Gon was the only constant in his life.

Afraid of everything.

His thoughts ran thick with mud. Obi-Wan struggled to clear them, but he was straining them with a fishing net, and the silt moved through, laughing at his best efforts to contain it.

He loved, and the power of it might destroy him.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply, then stood, ending his futile meditations. He knew what he had to do.

He reached for Qui-Gon mentally. _Master, I need to speak with you._

#Please come in.#

Obi-Wan left the chamber allocated to him, walked through their shared common living area, and into Qui-Gon's own sleeping area. His master was sitting on the floor, and appeared to have also been meditating.

"What is it you wish to speak about, padawan?" Qui-Gon asked.

He settled himself. "I am afraid."

Qui-Gon watched him quietly. An emotional wave of concern and support came with it.

Obi-Wan needed that support, but could not afford to indulge now, must charge forward into the fear. "I am in love with you, and I am afraid."

Qui-Gon's support did not falter, and now, Obi-Wan let it ease over him, taking comfort that his master had not withdrawn it, had not withdrawn from him.

"Ah," was Qui-Gon's response. "I am proud of you, padawan."

"Proud of me?" Obi-Wan's eyes snapped up.

"For admitting your fear."

Obi-Wan nodded. He could *feel* that pride, and it gave him confidence. "Yes... I... I am afraid, but I felt... that if I gave into the fear, and let it keep from telling you, let it keep me afraid, then..." he struggled to find words for a concept that had seemed clear inside him although he couldn't make sense of it now. "Then if I stayed afraid, I would always be afraid, and there would be more fear, and I'd be afraid of being afraid, and..." he shook his head. "I'm not explaining it well."

"You are. Well enough. If you had given into the fear and let it lie hidden, it would have ruled you.. It is you who must rule over your emotions, not your emotions which should rule over you. That is why fear is an easy path to the Dark Side, because it is an easy Master to become enslaved to, and one that only sinks its claws deeper when you attempt to escape."

Obi-Wan sighed, a deep cleansing breath that shook the last of his fears loose from inside. Now he was able to center himself, to find that point of calmness that had escaped him even with all his meditation. "And the rest?" he asked quietly, trying to be open, to accept what would come.

"For the rest..." Qui-Gon said slowly, "I think you know."

Obi-Wan bowed his head. Although he still felt his master's strong support in his mind, there was nothing more under it. Nothing more than the deep affection and confidence Qui-Gon had for and in him. "Yes, Master, I think I do."

Qui-Gon stood, laying his hand on his apprentice's head. "I do care about you, Obi-Wan, I always will. That much, be sure of."

Obi-Wan stood as well. He felt calmer inside than he would have believed possible earlier. His hopes had been dashed, and yet, his fears had not come to pass. He would not lose Qui-Gon, and that was what really mattered to Obi-Wan. That acceptance, that affection, the respect that laid between them. That was what was important. "Thank you."

He turned to leave the room, and so did not see Qui-Gon thoughtfully watching him go.

Part Two

"'Computers are useless. They can only give us answers.' What does that mean, apprentice?" Qui-Gon looked up at Obi-Wan who was swinging through a complicated routine on the bars and rings placed about the training salle, active lightsaber in hand.

"Can't you just give me quadratic equations to solve?" Obi-Wan panted, doubling his knees and rolling into a forward tumble.

"The object of the exercise is to get you to think, not to recite solutions to math problems."

Obi-Wan didn't have time to laugh, but he grinned anyway. "If that's all that you wanted, you could replace the Jedi with droids."

"Clever, padawan, but I expect a fuller answer than that," came the gentle, but amused, reproof.

"Yes, master." Obi-Wan swallowed the follow-up comment which involved how exactly they were going to get the droids to wear Jedi robes, and contemplated the koan as best he could while simultaneously going through the training kata and attempting not to slice himself in half with the lightsaber. To succeed at this exercise, he had to control his body and his mind at once. Nearly as difficult as not thinking of something, it required that he both fully submerge himself in the Force, while still keeping some part separate from it to respond to Qui-Gon.

"To the extent that artificial intelligence is possible, the statement is not true. It also postulates that we ourselves are not programmed by our own genetics and training to give automatic answers instead of thinking."

"And?" Qui-Gon asked patiently.

*What else?* Obi-Wan did the reverse flip a tad too slowly, thrown off by the intense need to concentrate. The statement contained the obvious truth that the reason a computer was useless was that the only secrets it held were those programmed in it. Nothing new could come from a computer, assuming that Qui-Gon was not referring to a machine with a higher level of consciousness.

He had to look at the problem differently.

Obi-Wan came out of the spin too late, and grabbed hard for the next ring in order to put himself back on the pace of the kata. The Force was strong with his movements, and it came as a shock when the ring tore away in his hand.

In the few seconds it took to recognize the new problem, Obi-Wan had already turned off the lightsaber and tucked himself into a ball which should allow him to roll and minimize the impact of his fall.

And found himself abruptly flat on his back on the training mat, staring up at the apparatus and what he could see of his master's robes. His master had intervened with the Force to bring him down swiftly and safely.

Qui-Gon extended a hand. "The next time you feel you need a fresh perspective, Obi-Wan, I suggest you choose another method of getting to the floor."

"Yes, master." He was being teased and he knew it. He accepted the help and stood. The differing perspective *had* helped him understand the koan that his master had posed. "The answers that a computer may give are not the difficulty. The answers may be useful, or may be not. But a computer cannot ask the questions, and it is the questions that are truly useful."

"A good beginning," Qui-Gon said, then tilted his head at Obi-Wan. "Now do you think you might answer my next question from up there?" He pointed toward the apparatus Obi-Wan had so abruptly left.

Obi-Wan flushed, but Qui-Gon's tone was mild. "Yes, master." He looked up at the pattern of the rings that remained, and replanned the kata. The fallen ring would have to be replaced after this session, something that their hosts would probably not be happy about. For now, though, he would need to work around its absence. Yet another level of difficulty.

He cleared his mind, centered himself, and leapt back onto the lower bar, swinging himself up to get the height required for the beginning position of the kata.

In that moment between questions, a span of time no longer than it took to swing from one bar to the next, another thought intruded. How much he cared about Qui-Gon. His affection for his master and for his gentle tolerance of Obi-Wan's mistakes today. Obi-Wan had recently discussed those feelings with Qui-Gon, and had come to peace with the idea that Qui-Gon did not return the love that Obi-Wan felt for him. However he had not, as of yet, come to terms with the feelings themselves. They still existed, and while Obi-Wan no longer feared where they might lead or not lead, he did not know a way to stop having them. How did you stop loving someone, particularly when they continued to be wise and generous and good?

"Tell me, padawan, what is a wise man?"

Obi-Wan did not have an answer for that, was in fact, distracted by his feelings. He threw those feelings into the Force, giving them up. He could not feel now, emotion would only cloud his thoughts and prevent him from communing with the Force, and quite possibly lead to injuries in this arena.

His emotions channeled into the Force, Obi-Wan's mind cleared. He concentrated on the new question. What was a wise man? Yoda was wise, everyone knew that. Obi-Wan thought his master was wise. But what were they? They were both Jedi, but... "The Jedi are not wise, master."

Qui-Gon did not correct him, but merely asked, "And why is that?"

He was forced to think again. Obi-Wan separated his mind further from his body, allowing the living force to control his actions while his mind remained on the mental task. "A Jedi may be wise, but that does not make the Jedi wise."

"Does that say anything about what a wise man is?"

He fit the pieces together. "Not wise because he belongs to a group, but... wise despite it?" No, that didn't sound right. That implied that the Jedi were obstacles in the way of wisdom. How to rephrase it to get at what he meant? Before he was really ready to answer, pre-empting another question from Qui-Gon, he started off, "The Jedi are..."

And promptly lost his thought again as the bar smacked him behind the knees, catching him too harshly. *Concentrate, blast it. Concentrate.*

"Obi-Wan?"

"A wise man is someone who's wise?" he hazarded, pushing his feelings further into the Force. He did not like doing poorly in front of Master Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan lived for any bit of praise given him by Qui-Gon, no matter how minor. He would rather bear torture than bring a disappointed frown to his master's face.

Something very like the expression currently forming, Obi-Wan noted as he whipped the lightsaber around, moving it out of the way just as he leaped into the space where it had been. He had no feelings, he was the Force... and the Force was very strong with him today. He could feel it, feel how easily his body flowed through the complicated moves of the kata. If only his mind would get in line with his body.

If his body did so much better than his mind, then perhaps the solution was not to block his mind from the force that flowed through his movements, but instead, to embrace it and let it guide his mind as well.

Obi-Wan reached out to the living force surrounding him, a corona of power, and took it inside him.

It was him after all, in a way. He absorbed it, became one with it, feeling it. Clarity snapped through his mental vision and--

And then something else was caught up in the Force, something too strong for him to hold, something he had failed to harness, and it reached out from him, seeking the ground to its power that he was not providing...

And that was all he knew.

Qui-Gon watched his apprentice, both enjoying and critiquing his performance. His physical skills were more than adequate, although, eyeing the ring that had been torn from its hold, control was still an issue. But Obi-Wan's ability to think and yet exercise the Force still was not at a standard that Qui-Gon could call acceptable. *At least, not for today's exercise.* Obi-Wan was very good at situations that required an immediate physical response, less good at those that required different skills.

He hoped to address that lack... until he felt a -- Force explosion? -- in the room. Obi-Wan's soaring form dropped as suddenly as though he'd been lasered in mid-air.

And, unlike before, Obi-Wan was not trying to roll to dissipate the force of the fall.

Concentrating, Master Qui-Gon reached out for the missile that his student had become and caught him, lowering him gently to the ground.

Only then did he permit himself to go to Obi-Wan, to see what he did not want to see, a fragile, crushed figure. Obi-Wan looked as though he had taken that fall unprotected, even though Qui-Gon had caught him.

The master knelt by his apprentice, hands going on to the padawan's head, searching for the spark of Obi-Wan's consciousness.

And felt massively relieved when he found it, weakened, but still there, far below the conscious level. *He could have died. He may still die,* Qui-Gon thought, feeling sick, then accepted those feelings. They would not help him to heal Obi-Wan, but they were a sign that he cared.

He settled into a healing trance, doing his best to cushion his apprentice's psyche. *I don't want to move him until he is less likely to suffer from shock, but this is not the place for him to be either. No, I must take him back to our quarters as soon as I can.*

Obi-Wan awoke to the feeling of comfortable safety, and the stiff-white-fresh smell of bedclothes that had been dried in the heat of a summer's afternoon. *'M not on Coruscant, then,* he thought wryly, as he explored the inside of his own head.

*What happened? Why do I feel wrapped up in swaddling? And why can't I reach out to the Force?* He'd given it a tentative probe almost automatically, his mind reaching out to his master's as a reflex action. The attempt hurt and sickened him, and he closed his eyes tight shut, not caring what he remembered or not, only hoping that the pain would go away.

Then the sure tread of footsteps entered the room, and someone was touching his face and relieving the nausea.

He didn't need the Force to know who it was. He knew the sound of those footsteps, recognized the *presence* of the other man from his smell and from the kindness of his touch -- Qui-Gon was always careful of others, as if constantly conscious of the threat he presented as not only a Jedi Master, but as a powerfully built man. Yet his touch now was even more solicitous than usual.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan reached out again, wanting to feel his master's mind, sure now that Qui-Gon was so close to him that it would be possible -- and yet again, he failed, sagging back into the bed, his nausea returning.

This time, Qui-Gon spoke. "Rest, Obi-Wan. You have much to recover from."

Obi-Wan's eyes opened, confused. Again, Qui-Gon took the nausea away, and now, Obi-Wan was able to focus. "I can't feel you. I can't feel the Force."

"Ssh," Qui-Gon soothed, touching him again, and then he was in Obi-Wan's mind. #Is this better? Do not try to respond this way. Just remember, I am still here.# With that came a wave of comfort and support.

"Th-thank you," Obi-Wan said, his voice shaking, nearly in tears. "Thank you." He reached up and covered Qui-Gon's hand with one of his own. The familiar mindtouch washed through his last remaining barrier, and he felt himself being dragged under by the dark tides of his own mind, demanding rest.

When Obi-Wan woke again, he felt better, enough to remember not to reach out with the Force. He felt sick at the thought that he might have lost his connection with the Force. He still had it, he *must* have it. It was essential. A bitter, but oddly comforting thought came to him. *Why would Qui-Gon bother taking care of a Force-less apprentice?* It had been so difficult initially to get Qui-Gon to accept him. Obi-Wan had never forgotten how precarious his place was, by how little he had missed being a farmer on Bandomeer for the rest of his life. He did not fear it, but he knew what the truth was, and refused to change his history around in his mind to make it more palatable.

He must still have the ability to use the Force. Without it, he would be useless. And as long as he recovered properly, everything would continue to be all right.

Qui-Gon entered the room. "I sensed your awakening. How do you feel?"

Obi-Wan managed a smile. "Better, master."

"And the Force?"

"I didn't want to risk reaching out again."

"I'm here now," Qui-Gon said. "If you lose control, or are pained, I will take care of it."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in silent agreement, his trust in his master absolute. He reached out again for his master's mind, wanting the reassurance of Qui-Gon's mental presence.

And it was there. The calm warmth of his master's presence. Obi-Wan basked in it, feeling so much better just for achieving this.

Then, strengthened, he reached out further, searching the room for his lightsaber, finding it and bringing it to him. He had it in his grasp, was drawing it to him, when Qui-Gon spoke.

"And what is a wise man, padawan?"

Part of Obi-Wan continued to pull the lightsaber toward him, while the other part tried to answer the question.

Until an echo of the force he had felt before his accident spiked through him, and startled, Obi-Wan dropped the lightsaber, dropped all concentration, shut down, his chest heaving as though he'd been working out for several hours instead of resting here in bed. "Master...?" he began, alarmed.

"Be calm, Obi-Wan. I suspected as much. I believe it is a side-effect of the original event, and something that will heal in time. I had hoped not to see it, but had felt that such a trauma would not be so easily dismissed."

"What trauma? What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Haltingly, Obi-Wan did his best to recall the last few things in his memory. "I... was on the bars-and-rings. You'd asked me a question that... that I couldn't answer. Was having trouble answering. I couldn't think, and so I..." He frowned, trying to dredge up the memory. "I don't know what I did. It was like I'd tapped into some kind of power I didn't know I had and I wasn't prepared for it. That... that's about it."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Do you know where the power came from?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. I mean, it felt like it was mine, like it came from me, but I can't understand how it got there..."

"Have you been channeling your feelings into the Force of late? Releasing your emotions into the outlet that the Force can provide?"

To this, Obi-Wan nodded shakily.

Qui-Gon waited for a moment, and when his apprentice did not elaborate, asked another question. "What kind of feelings were you channeling that way? Fear? Anger? Other emotions?"

His master's voice remained calm and soothing, and Obi-Wan responded to it. "I... they were..." He closed his eyes as though that would make it any easier, unaware of the hollow, despairing lines of his face. "They were my feelings for you. The ones you don't want. I could... get rid of the fear. I understand that you don't have the same feelings for me. I can deal with that, have dealt with that. But," his hands clenched in the bedclothes, "I can't stop *having* those feelings. I've stopped being afraid of them, and, and it's almost like there's more of them. I gave them over to the Force. I thought... I guess I don't know what I thought," he continued miserably. "It was obviously a bad idea whatever it was."

"It wasn't the right idea," Qui-Gon said, no feeling of judgment coming from him, "*because* you could not control it. Do you understand?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"The energies you put into the Force can become greater than you are. Those energies seek a conduit for release. A small amount is used in Force-based meditation, a larger amount in training exercises like this afternoon's, and a still larger amount when you are doing something greater than your own physical abilities. Say, landing a freighter using the Force. I hope that this does not come as a surprise to you."

"No, I knew that, but--"

"But there is a limit to the amount of power that a person can channel through their body. You were using the outlet of physical exertion to dissipate that power, but the back-up of power had become greater than you could handle."

"It exploded, didn't it, master?"

"Yes."

"I apologize, master. It is entirely my fault."

Qui-Gon's mouth quirked. "No, it is not. I should have realized what would happen if your feelings could not be reined in. Blocked emotion is nearly always a flaw for a Jedi. You've merely found a unique way to be destroyed by that flaw. You are fortunate to have survived."

"And what... what if it happens again?"

Qui-Gon's face seemed dark to Obi-Wan. "There are a number of techniques passed down from Master to Master throughout the history of the Jedi. It is... not unusual... for a padawan to have feelings of romantic love toward their master. In many cases, it is simple transference. The master is the closest person to the padawan, and in the developing age a padawan is in, a sexual or romantic interest is common. Such things are easily dealt with."

*That's not how I feel,* Obi-Wan thought.

Qui-Gon simply went on, ignoring Obi-Wan's mental comment if he had heard it at all. "Even if the feelings seem to be true, the easiest way to defuse such an emotionally charged situation is to remove the padawan from it and put them into a different situation where they see more people of their own age and relative standing."

"Even if it means leaving their master?" Obi-Wan asked, an ache beginning in his chest. Was Qui-Gon leading up to this? To telling him that he, Obi-Wan, would be left at the Temple, masterless for the crime of caring too much about someone?

Qui-Gon hesitated. "Sometimes. In extreme cases. When no other alternative can be found."

"And what will you do with me, master?"

"For the moment, nothing. You are recovering, and gathering enough of the Force to do yourself harm should be beyond your capabilities for now. In the long term... Obi-Wan, you would be happier loving someone who isn't your master. Someone who, perhaps, is not even a Jedi. Any bond between Jedi brings risks even as it adds intimacy. Life with a non-Jedi would be simpler, more comfortable. As soon as this mission is complete, I will arrange for our return to Coruscant. Giving you a wider range of personal contacts should help."

Obi-Wan's chest really hurt now. "I love you. I'm not going to stop loving you, and I don't know what I can say to make you believe that."

"I believe that you believe it, Obi-Wan. I always have. Trust in that."

It was too little, but Obi-Wan was exhausted, and he knew he could not sway his master, not on this issue. Perhaps not on anything until he recovered more of his strength.

And his self-confidence. "Yes, master."

"I'll be close by." Qui-Gon stroked his cheek, then stood and left the room.

A sob worked its way out of his throat, and Obi-Wan remembered being 13 again. Remembered the anguish of being passed over, remembered not being chosen, and indeed the crushing of his heart again and again until he had finally accepted that Qui-Gon meant it when he said that Obi-Wan would never be his apprentice.

Sorrow. The crushing weight of loss. And the knowledge that he was not good enough, would never be good enough.

He'd come to terms with his own inadequacy then.

It haunted Obi-Wan even now. Again, Qui-Gon did not believe. Didn't believe that his apprentice could see love when it was plain before him, and choose it for himself. And, indeed, Obi-Wan admitted, it was the simple truth. For Qui-Gon believed he was inadequate, too. Obi-Wan knew it.

Qui-Gon was not a demonstrative man. He never had been. From the very first, when Obi-Wan had not even been his apprentice yet, he had been like this. Obi-Wan remembered fighting against the draigons, aware that he would die, and at peace with it. Qui-Gon had joined him then, to fight alongside him, but no word of praise passed his lips. Not then, and later... a small word, yes.

Everything he had done had been a cause for reprimand when it came to Bandomeer, even that final moment when Obi-Wan, convinced that the only way to save the miners was to sacrifice himself, offered up his own life.

That the incident caused Qui-Gon to take him as his padawan, Obi-Wan was grateful. That perhaps the Jedi had simply taken pity on Obi-Wan's overwhelming eagerness had also occurred to him.

He was not good enough. If he were, Qui-Gon would have told him. If he were, then Qui-Gon might love him.

Obi-Wan's lips lifted in a smile. He was lying to himself there. No, even for his best efforts at the Jedi arts, Obi-Wan would be rewarded with a slight smile, or if, by some rare chance of the Force, Obi-Wan should surpass himself and be extraordinary, a brief caress.

Qui-Gon was everything to him. Obi-Wan wished that he could somehow please that desperately private man, somehow connect more fully. If not with his love, then in some other way, and ease this aching pain that Qui-Gon had left in his wake tonight.

Feelings of unease woke Qui-Gon. Automatically, he centered himself. The feelings continued, despite the dissipation of his dreams, and Qui-Gon knew then that they were from Obi-Wan.

He focused on his padawan. Had he relapsed? No, his physical state was weak, but fine. It was Obi-Wan's mental state that had alerted him. Obi-Wan was feeling inadequate. Feeling that no matter how good he was, he was not good enough to be a real Jedi.

Concerned for his student, Qui-Gon readied himself to send support through the bond they shared as master and apprentice.

But he waited a few moments to see if Obi-Wan could handle this on his own. The boy was good, very good, and Qui-Gon felt sure that any doubts he could have would be easily soothed. It would help Obi-Wan's recovery if he felt able to cope with small difficulties on his own.

He was rewarded a minute later when Obi-Wan's thoughts re-centered around the thought of living up to his master's standards.

Qui-Gon smiled, pleased. The boy was humble -- something his previous apprentice had rarely been. A good quality. One that Qui-Gon encouraged. It was also good how Obi-Wan set such high standards for himself. Obi-Wan tended to meet to meet those personal standards. A rare pupil, indeed.

He sent his student a wave of concern and support and then closed his eyes.

Obi-Wan felt the support and groaned mentally even as his wounded psyche basked in it. *I just woke Master Qui-Gon up with my pathetic thoughts. Wonderful. And he knows I'm so incapable of handling my problems, he instantly throws a mental blanket over me, as though I were five and afraid of the lightning.*

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and positioned himself to meditate. There was no way he would be able to sleep with his mind in its current turmoil, and he refused to keep his master up any longer with his lack of emotional control.

He took another deep, cleansing breath, and surrendered himself to the trance.

Qui-Gon's eyes opened in the darkness, as more of Obi-Wan's thoughts and feelings leaked through to him. His apprentice had gone into meditation, giving himself over to the Force again, something Qui-Gon both approved of and disliked. He approved of Obi-Wan taking the time to meditate and clear his thoughts, of the care Obi-Wan put into important decisions. But at the same time, it was too soon for him to be giving his emotions over to the Force again. The scars from the incident in the training arena had not yet faded. To continue in the same actions that had caused pain was dangerous. That way laid draigons.

Disturbed, Qui-Gon sat up, legs folding underneath him.

*Am I doing the right thing for him? I can't respond to him. He'll quickly realize once we return to Coruscant and actually _stay_ there for a while that there are other people more attractive than his aged master. This cannot be serious, can it?*

Part Three

He tried to determine what his thoughts were upon returning home to Coruscant. Awe, disbelief? No, Obi-Wan decided, more of a feeling of disconnection, as though Coruscant were only another planet, and not a very interesting one at that.

Looking out at the endless urban sprawl from the shuttle viewport, he tried to summon up feeling. Tried to make coming here mean something. Coming to Coruscant, center of the galaxy, gem of the republic, the home of the Jedi temple.

But, no. He couldn't. Immensity lay between himself and that industrialization outside the window, an immensity he had no idea how to bridge.

An immensity that had been there ever since his master had told him he was being taken back to Coruscant. Being freed to spend more time with others of his own age. Being freed to let loose of his feelings about his master... and to be freed of his master if he could not let them go.

Obi-Wan felt no pain. The wound was too deep for tears, and indeed, after meditating on his master's decision, he had at last been able to put the pain away from him. Recognize the pain, acknowledge it as an alert that he had been hurt, and then let it go because it had served its purpose. He had acknowledged... and afterwards, coming out of that trance, had found silence wrapped around him like a cloak, the immensity of that emptiness a barrier against the world. It held like the strongest shield. His master could not, or would not, penetrate it. And Obi-Wan was inside, still the same person, but altered by that silence, by the sense that he was not part of the world, but his own self, separated, and acting alone.

The shuttle landed in the space allotted for the Academy's transportation needs, and he and Qui-Gon debarked.

Obi-Wan automatically used the Force to block out the noise buffeting at his ears. He thought perhaps his master was trying to say something to him, but in the wind and the howl of traffic on this dark afternoon, Obi-Wan did not try to listen. Qui-Gon did not try to make a mental contact, and Obi-Wan supposed that he knew the reason for that.

Coming through a door, they entered the Academy proper, and as it shut, the noise cut off.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes, master?"

"As I was trying to say, you are welcome to use our quarters until you can make other arrangements, but I feel it would be best if you were to find other quarters for the duration of your stay here."

*_Your_ stay.* Obi-Wan noted the pronoun, even as he digested the content of Qui-Gon's statement. As a student, Obi-Wan had shared quarters with the other children. As a Padawan, he shared his master's quarters during the usually brief times that they were on Coruscant. It was a convenient arrangement, one shared by most Master/Apprentice pairs. For Qui-Gon to request this... well, yes, it was more of what his master had been trying to tell him, that Obi-Wan needed to be separated, needed to give up on his useless feelings of love. That this was the first thing out of his master's mouth...

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "I understand, master. If I have your leave, I will take care of that now."

Qui-Gon considered him, then said, "As you wish."

He bowed his body, and then turned away, leaving his master -- his ex-master? -- behind in the hallway.

This was the beginning of the end.

The next morning, Obi-Wan woke alone, in a nearly silent room. Only the hum of various mechanicals disturbed the absoluteness of the quiet. There was no sound of another's breathing, no presence sharing the room with him.

He sat up, mind reaching out automatically to Qui-Gon.

His master was there at the other end of the link. But Qui-Gon answered his light probe with a gentle rebuke. #I do not require your presence, Padawan. Enjoy yourself. I will call if I need you.#

And then the connection was severed, leaving Obi-Wan alone, almost at the point of despair. He was being abandoned, he knew it.

Abandoned, and yet... if he felt so deeply about being apart from his master, felt such deep emotions of loss and pain, then that was all the more proof that he was endangering his training by having these feelings at all. He knew he depended on his master, but didn't this despair mean that his dependence was unhealthy? Did the ache of loss inside him indicate some failure that could be used as a weakness by the dark side?

Obi-Wan ignored the bath facilities, ignored that he was only wearing a light sleeping robe, and knelt down near the bed, already easing himself into a meditative trance. He needed to center, needed to root out his weakness.

Qui-Gon closed off their connection with regret. He was certain that Obi-Wan's remoteness meant nothing good, but then, was it not one of the better ways to handle his situation? *It's difficult for him. He feels he needs me. And I would like nothing better than to go to him, and allow him to retake his place by my side. But is his need simply what any apprentice might feel if cut off from his automatic source of guidance and support? Or is it the reaction of an addict who has just had his supply of drugs removed, and who must now endure a painful withdrawal? Or is it something else?* Qui-Gon did not know, and disliked that the only way he could know for certain was to put Obi-Wan through this. *At least he is here, on Coruscant. If I cannot shelter him, there are others who can and will do so. He will not be left alone.*

He felt the brush of another mind on his own, from a visitor standing outside the door to his chamber. He responded the same way. #Please, come in#.

Mace Windu entered, ducking his head under the low lintel. "Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Mace Windu," Qui-Gon acknowledged.

"I have given much thought to your request." He paused, as if waiting to see if the other master would offer a comment, then went on. "I feel it was wise of you to return here with your apprentice."

"Thank you for confirming my judgment."

"I have made arrangements to see that other masters are aware of his situation. In particular, Jar-es Bith, the master in charge of training this fourth, and Etil."

"Ah. I was not aware that she was available again."

"Yes. despite all her efforts, her charge succumbed at last to old age. She was, however, able to hold the Exalted Panjah on this plane long enough to ensure the succession."

Qui-Gon inclined his head. Etil was a noted healer, strong in the Force, and Jedi-trained as well. A rare exception to the structures of the Jedi system, she was both master and healer. Most healers did not have the time outside of their demanding profession to be a Jedi master as well. Etil lacked that time also, but she had been called -- and she would accept nothing less than to serve to the fullest of her abilities.

Mace Windu continued. "They will keep watch for signs that he requires aid. Your apprentice is in good hands."

"Ah, yes. *My* apprentice."

The Force, and trained experience, enabled a sensitive listener to gauge what deeper levels might exist in a conversation, and what they meant. "You have a reason to feel that Obi-Wan is no longer to be your apprentice?"

"I am not sure. I..." Qui-Gon hesitated. "I have felt the compulsion to withdraw from him further than I already have done. I... I have told him of some of the methods that might be taken to deal with his feelings. Of this first step, and that finding him a new master might be necessary."

"You told him nothing of the other possibilities that lie between those two?"

"No. Somehow I could not speak of them."

Mace Windu went very still. "If that is how it is, perhaps you are right. Perhaps the Force is speaking to you, telling you that you must leave the boy."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "Perhaps. But tell me then, why does the thought hurt so much?"

"I don't know." Mace Windu regarded him closely, even while Qui-Gon looked away. "Study your own feelings. I begin to think that it may not only be the apprentice who requires guidance in this matter."

Qui-Gon nodded somberly.

When Obi-Wan finally left his quarters, he was surprised by an ambush. Another Jedi, lurking in wait for him. She leaned against the wall across from the door.

"Can I be of some assistance?" he asked cautiously.

The other Jedi, a small blonde woman with an engaging smile, nodded to him. "Obi-Wan Kenobi? I'm Etil."

"Master Etil. I've heard many good things about you." He'd never met her before, but he knew her by her reputation, which was formidable. That she had obviously sought him out was both pleasing and ominous. Pleasing that he had not been left entirely on his own, but ominous in the speed with which events were moving to separate him from Qui-Gon.

"I'm sure that only half of them are true. The rest?" She sniffed. "Complete fabrications. Have the morning meal with me?"

He could say no, but he hardly wanted to. His life was being changed, and refusing to cooperate with that change could only make it more painful. There was nothing he could do. Protest would not change Qui-Gon's mind -- Obi-Wan knew the other Jedi better than that. And it would only serve to showcase Obi-Wan's own immaturity if he did. As in all other things, acceptance was the key. Accepting the stab through the heart, and only then would he be able to heal from it. "Yes, thank you."

Still, he had no wish to wait. He understood the value of patience, but disregarded it now. He couldn't move forward if he didn't know where to step. "What is going to happen to me, do you know?"

Etil tilted her head, as he fell into step beside her. "I imagine you'll eat, and unless you eat too much and get a stomach ache, you'll be full and have had a nice breakfast."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Her eyes turned serious. "You're so anxious to leave Master Qui-Gon then?"

*No!* "I only want to know what the future holds."

"I'm not a foreteller. A healer, yes. But not a foreteller."

Obi-Wan was frustrated now, but tried hard not to show it. "I mean... obviously something is going on. You came to see me for a reason. You had to. So something's going to happen to me. I just want to know what it is. I feel so helpless," he admitted, surprised to hear the words coming out. "Things are happening around me, and I'm not in control. I'm piloting a crashing ship, and I've been blindfolded."

She stopped in the corridor, taking his hand. "I don't know, Obi-Wan. I cannot tell what I myself am not aware of. What I do know is that you are here to heal, and that I will do everything I can to help you in that process."

Obi-Wan remembered the fall he had taken during training, the fall caused by his losing control of the Force. That must be what she was talking about. "I've recovered from that. I'm all right."

"Are you?" She smiled lopsidedly. "I don't think that you are."

"What do you mean?"

She dropped his hand, moving hers to center over his heart, and then to his head. She did not touch him directly, but instead, her hand hovered over his body. "You carry much confusion, Obi-Wan. Stress, undealt-with emotion, and something else. Something that disturbs me more than all the rest." She dropped her hand and reopened her eyes, which had closed to slits during her examination of him. "Has it occurred to you that it may be the world that is out-of-step, and not you?"

"I don't understand."

"I know. It's all right. Let's eat."

With that, she led him to the dining hall. Obi-Wan looked around for his master, but did not see Qui-Gon. *He must be dining in his room.* He felt inexplicably sad at being unable to see him. They'd been apart less then twelve hours, and he was already finding the separation difficult.

The food was plain, but good. Obi-Wan was accustomed through years of practice to eating anything that was presented to him with a smile and words of appreciation. It would not do, for example, to insult important personages by refusing to eat over a matter of mere culinary distaste. A Jedi respected other cultures. Obi-Wan smiled when he remembered a feast several years ago now. The image came to him -- Qui-Gon calmly eating what looked like an eyeball, and then turning to him and advising him to eat his own, as it was delicious.

Etil noticed his brief moment of happiness. "Feeling better?"

Her voice reminded him of his present circumstances, and the smile faded. "I don't know."

"Good answer. 'I don't know' is much more encouraging than 'no', you must admit. Leaves more room for adjustment. A moving-forward mindset."

"Forward into what?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

He looked down at his plate.

"It's up to you, you know. The next few weeks are your own. The training master expects to see you on a regular basis, but other than that, you are free as anyone can be. Barring an attack on Coruscant, you have time to do as you please."

"Time, yes. Freedom, no."

"And what do you want to do that you lack the freedom to pursue?"

*I am wishing for the stars.* "Nothing that I can have. What I can have, I don't want."

"And what is that?"

He considered her carefully. He doubted that she was asking out of casual interest. No, her appearance at his door had been deliberate, and her role here was official. She was taking an interest in his health -- as much emotional as physical, he decided -- and if he could talk to anyone, it would be her. He doubted it would be anything she hadn't heard before. Etil had been a master longer than he had been at the Jedi temple. Longer than his entire life span. "I'm expected to find an appropriate partnership. To fall in love with someone of my own age and my own general rank, what of it I have."

"That shouldn't be a problem," she observed. "You're a good-looking boy. You shouldn't have any trouble finding partners."

"I don't want partners. I want..." He shook his head. He couldn't find a way to say it, not without sounding foolish. He wanted Qui-Gon. Or thought he did. Just saying it in his head sounded ridiculous. How could he aspire to love his master? How could he be so certain that Qui-Gon was the answer, was his answer? The answer -- he wasn't sure. Not even enough to say it to himself. "I want something more than just someone to go to bed with. Perhaps I can have nearly anyone, but I don't want anyone. I want..." He struggled to find words for it, some way to make sense of it. "I want someone special. Someone who matters, who I matter to. I want it to be more than a passing fancy."

"You can find that as well. You're about the age where people start looking for commitment. It probably wouldn't be for forever, but people your age don't know what forever means anyway."

"No, I suppose you're right. I have no concept of forever. I must not, because I feel that that's how long I'll hurt like this."

"You won't. It'll pass."

"I know. I'm not sure I want it to."

She didn't react with shock to that most un-Jedi-like confession. "Some people think that living with pain is the only way to know that they're real."

"I know I'm real."

"Good. It's always nice to know what's truth and what's not. Acting upon lies and shadows and pretense is rarely a good idea."

He had no angry outburst to stifle, although he understood her implications. She meant that he could not or was not discerning the truth from the muck surrounding him. "It may all be based on pretense. I know he cares about me, but he's told me that it's only so far. My feelings... I feel them, I know they're real. But I don't know whether there's anything more than wishful thinking to back them up."

"Your affection is genuine," she observed. "There's nothing wrong with affection."

"But there is something wrong with love, isn't there?" Obi-Wan flung at her. "No one's said it directly to me, but I can hear the obvious. It's wrong for me to feel love, and I should just stop feeling this way. Or if I can't, then I should find someone else to take it out on. Someone else to love."

"Love is, you know, more flexible than you may think. When you're young, you imagine that there's one true person for you, and that only that person will do, but the truth is that many people will do just as well, and that love is more a matter of choice than of destiny or magic."

He stared at her.

"Yes," she continued. "That's the truth. You may love Master Qui-Gon with all your heart, but as real as that emotion feels, there are others you could love just as well, with little trouble. It's a matter of choice, and you've chosen to love him. You can choose to love someone else, and would probably have equal success. Or even more, if the other person returned your affections."

"But... but you can't... I... the bond we share..."

"Is something that a Master and Padawan share. And something that lovers share, at least, those who possess the powers of a Jedi. But having one does not automatically mean that you are the other. Else I would find myself training padawans for the rest of my life." Her eyes twinkled at him. "Or, for that matter, my apprenticeship would have been greatly extended."

"No... I suppose that's true." His assumptions were shattering around him. Obi-Wan didn't know what to think now. Maybe she was right. Maybe Qui-Gon had been right. He had mistaken their bond and Qui-Gon's affection for him for love, and had erroneously grabbed onto that as true love, when in fact it was nothing of the sort. Perhaps he should try to find someone to love who was not also his master.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Etil was content. Standing up, she crossed to him and put a hand under his elbow. "Come. I'll introduce you to the training master. You've got a lot to think about."

Part Four

"Let's see what you can do, eh?"

And with no more warning than that, Master Jar-es Bith launched into the beginning movements of the Grand Dance.

Obi-Wan's lightsaber was in his hand before he'd consciously reached for it. If he'd had the time, he might have felt brief panic that the training master had selected this routine to test his abilities with. Normally, it was performed only between matched pairs -- those who had been working together for a long time and who were bonded mentally, close enough to sense their partner's moves and anticipate them.

But there was no time, and Obi-Wan reacted rather than acted.

They were starting at half-speed, not the slowest that the kata could be started at, and Obi-Wan gave himself over to the Force, allowing his consciousness to merge with it, and draw from it.

He could dimly sense Bith, and what Bith was doing. It was not closeness, not a true bond, and Obi-Wan felt crippled by the difference. Oh, he could see well enough what Bith was doing, but the Grand Dance was not about what you could see, but rather about everything you could not see.

Obi-Wan disregarded his unease as irrelevant, and found himself easily dropping into the rhythm of the Grand Dance, flowing with it, and with Master Bith. Instinctively he reached out to the master for guidance, and met with a natural shield.

*Of course.* They didn't have the bond that he and Master Qui-Gon had. Jedi shielded naturally as a matter of training. Only a deliberate link between he and the other could have changed that. But the barrier was not still so strong that it prevented him from knowing what Bith was about to do. Less clear than what he would have received from Qui-Gon, a complete bonding of two minds until it was one mind moving in two bodies, it was still enough to allow him to anticipate and respond.

Quickly, Master Bith took them up to full speed, performing the Grand Dance at the level it should be performed at. Obi-Wan's body was a blur, his mind busy calculating trajectories and angles while it simultaneously remained at rest with the Force.

And then the exercise came to its abrupt halt, and Obi-Wan was bowing to the training master, even as the master bowed to him.

It was done.

Master Bith looked him over, more approving now. "You've got the speed and the moves. It'd be a waste of your time to put you in with the regular apprentice crowd. They're running through the basic stuff, keeping themselves fit while their masters are on other business. Not at your level."

*What?* Obi-Wan wondered. Not at his level? He wasn't that much better than any of the other apprentices, was he?

"I can tell you've worked hard to get to where you're at. You'll want to be improving on that, not just holding in place where you are. And you're going to need individual instruction to do that. Tell you what, I'll put you on the roster. With me, unless you favor another of the other masters. I've got the least time, but then, we don't get many apprentices through here who have a need for advanced work."

*And who aren't with their masters, getting that work,* Obi-Wan heard, clear as though it had been spoken. Not that Master Bith had spoken it, mentally or otherwise. But Obi-Wan understood the message anyway, and once again worked to control the shame he felt at having been sent away by his master.

"That will be fine. Thank you," Obi-Wan said.

"Good. Come by, then, say the second quarter hour after the noon meal, and we'll see what we can do to improve your skills."

"I will be here, Master Bith."

"Tomorrow, not today."

"Yes, Master Bith."

"Good." The training master narrowed his eyes, done with what he had to say officially but not yet dismissing Obi-Wan. "You're not comfortable with working with someone other than your master. You should be. Maybe that's all you'll be doing until and if you pass the trials and become a Knight, but working with others -- even non-Jedi -- is a valuable skill. And I think you can learn it."

"I meant no disrespect for your teaching," Obi-Wan said hurriedly.

"No? Well, then, be off with you. Tomorrow is soon enough."

Obi-Wan bowed again and made his way from the salle. What did the training master mean by that? Why had he said it? Obi-Wan knew that he'd have to fight alongside those other than Qui-Gon -- he'd done it in the past. Rarely with other Jedi, he admitted, as one master was considered enough to handle any problem up to and including planetary disintegration, but with civilians, yes. Numerous times.

He didn't get it.

But, for now, it didn't matter. As far as he knew, he had the rest of the day free. Master Etil had not been waiting for him outside the training salle, and barring any other unexpected visits, he was at loose ends. She'd said that he was free other than training with Master Bith, and he was reasonably certain that she would know, despite her evasiveness to his questions about what was going to happen to him. Continuing his work-outs and working on his mental discipline were the things he knew he needed to do, and both masters had already taken their places and responsibility for that. There was nothing else he absolutely had to do.

He decided not to return to his quarters. All he could do there was brood, over-intellectualizing his feelings until he no longer knew what anything meant nor even why he was alive.

Turning around, he headed back toward the salle and the showers there. He would clean himself up, and then go looking for others his age.

It would keep him from thinking too much, and, sad as it was, it would be another step on the path Qui-Gon wanted him to walk.

A path he would walk, for his master's sake, even though he had no idea where it might take him.

The door chimed.

Qui-Gon went to open it, and was surprised to see Etil on the other side.

"I need to talk to you," Etil said.

"Please come inside." He motioned her to take a seat.

"Thank you." She sat down at the small table in his room, and he seated himself across from her.

"What did you wish to discuss?"

She snorted. "I shouldn't be talking about this with you. If anything, you don't need to be worrying about that boy."

Qui-Gon interpreted 'that boy' to be his apprentice. "But...?"

"But you need to hear this, and I need some answers."

"I would be pleased to answer any questions you might have."

"Good. How long has this insecurity problem of his been going on?"

"Excuse me?" Qui-Gon wondered momentarily if they were talking about the same padawan. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Obi-Wan," she said impatiently. "The boy's got an insecurity complex a sector wide. And you didn't notice?"

"Obi-Wan has always been humble..." Qui-Gon said.

"Humble? Light! The boy's so self-effacing I'm surprised he doesn't offer to lie down on the floor and then beg you to walk on him. He thinks you're the wisest person he's ever met. You can do no wrong."

"A common misapprehension for apprentices," Qui-Gon commented quietly.

"Yeah. So it is. But this is different. He doesn't have any confidence in himself. None."

"I find that hard to believe. Obi-Wan is skilled at most ever what he puts his will to. He has some shortcomings, but then, that is what training is for. He is a superior padawan."

"Well, he doesn't know that. He's convinced that you can't possibly love him because he's not worthy of you."

"That's... that's absurd."

"Yeah, but try telling him that. That's why I came to you. I've got a very messed-up boy on my hands. The problem isn't what you thought it was. Or maybe it is, but it's so intertwined with this other problem that trying to fix the first is making the second worse."

"How is that?"

She gave him a disbelieving look, colored by overtones of 'How could you *not* see this?' "Simple. He loves you. You dealt with it by separating him from you so that he could see that he isn't really in love with you. But when you did that, you also gave him the message that he isn't good enough to be loved."

"That is... unfortunate," Qui-Gon said, choosing his words carefully. "I had hoped that this could be an easy transition for Obi-Wan. However, pain can be an inevitable part of the process of change."

"Whatever. The fact of the matter is that he needs you to love him." She waved an impatient hand at him when his face changed. "Forget about him being in love with you. He needs your approval, and he doesn't think that he has it. It's love that he wants, and, assuming you *do* care about him, that's not something that you should have trouble giving him. Or do you have a problem with your apprentice that I should know about?"

"No. I have always cared for him..."

"Good. That's a place to start. What I've got to do is to somehow disentangle the threads. Cut the knot without breaking the boy's spirit. He's gotten the notion of romantic love mixed up with unconditional love, and while it's right that the two should be separate, particularly when you do not share his feelings, it's going to be messy."

Of course, he didn't share Obi-Wan's feelings. He loved his padawan, but it was only what any master might feel for his apprentice. A bond of affection, trust and respect that had started out years before and would continue for years more. So why did it bother him so much to hear that Obi-Wan might be broken in the process of straightening out his emotions? "I do not wish harm to come to Obi-Wan."

"You've already caused harm, Qui-Gon. I'm just doing my best to heal it. Even if it means taking the boy apart and putting him back together again. His emotions need to be dealt with, and will be. But what about yours?"

"My emotions?"

"Yes. What do you feel for the boy?"

"I... I'm very proud of him. Of his accomplishments. He's a good apprentice, and will be a fine Jedi Knight, and even a master, when the time comes. He has a compassionate heart, a willing spirit, and is strong with the Force."

"Great. Now I know as much about the boy as I could see with my own two eyes. What do *you* feel about him?"

*At the moment, confused,* he admitted to himself. "I care about him."

"Yeah, sure." She stood, and stared at him for a long moment, her eyes on a level with his as long as he remained seated. "Examine your emotions. Especially think about why it is that you've been withholding yourself from the boy, and what you think you're trying to achieve by sending him away. I could use you to help him heal, and rebuild your relationship as well, but I'm not going to even try that unless you're willing to be upfront about what you feel. As it is, I'll heal him without your assistance, but you may not like the finished product. Right now he needs you desperately -- but when I'm finished with him, he won't need you. He'll be able to stand on his own, as the man he ought to be, not the emotional cripple that he currently is. Think about that."

She stalked out without a word of leave-taking.

Qui-Gon sat back, stunned by her visit. Master Etil certainly spoke ... *bluntly* about what she believed. Had he been hurting Obi-Wan? And if so, what should he do about it?

It seemed likeliest that he should take no action at all. Etil was a healer, and Qui-Gon trusted her abilities. If she said that Obi-Wan was wounded now, and could be put back together into a healthier person, then Qui-Gon believed her. Who was he to interrupt the work of a healer? Especially when he had no idea what he hoped to gain by such interruption. It sounded as though the best thing for Obi-Wan was to let Etil heal him, let him be purged of his insecurities. Qui-Gon had no right to interfere with that, and further, no desire to make matters worse by doing so.

Sore at heart, he thought for the first time about the other ways he could have handled this situation. He could have accepted his apprentice's desire, and integrated it into their bond, allowing it without encouraging it, using his own strength to support Obi-Wan's inexperience in handling his emotions. For some reason, that course of action felt wrong, as though it were the first step toward allowing Obi-Wan entirely inside his heart, rather than the sensible response that it was. Which excluded the other ways of handling the situation, all of which would have exposed Qui-Gon further, would have sliced open his deep reserve.

But still, would any of the other methods of dealing with a padawan's attraction for his master have been more appropriate?

Probably. Even allowing Obi-Wan to find another master might have been better than this if it were true that he had inadvertently hurt Obi-Wan by pushing him to enhance his own natural qualities of humility and submission.

The one thing in the world he wanted to do the least was to hurt his apprentice. Ever. He cared too much for that.

And yet it seemed that everything he had done for the best of intentions had served only to wound Obi-Wan, and now, in his selfish desire to avoid facing his own feelings toward his apprentice, he might have delivered the most final cut of all.

Qui-Gon lowered his face into his hands, sadness overflowing within him.

Part Five

The apprentices tended to gather in the large room next to the training salle when they were finished with their day.

Used for individual training, and rarely scheduled for other events, it was a place to work on one's routines alone, or simply to warm down after a challenging routine. Open to all apprentices, knights and masters, it had a more restrained ambience than the salle, where their juniors spent most of their time tumbling and attempting to fit their still awkward bodies to the moves that they saw performed. This room was a place of retreat. And also, as Obi-Wan knew well, a place to show off one's abilities so that others might be impressed by your prowess.

The Jedi equivalent of a tavern, it was the popular place to gather at the Academy. There were plenty of places to visit on Coruscant, but none offered the ability to simply be Jedi, openly and with one's friends.

Not that he had any friends.

Even at this early hour, there were already people congregating in the room. Two people were practicing tumbling on the floor, and one more was in the air, making use of the apparatus suspended there. Others sat on the edge of the floor, talking and watching.

If he wanted, he could likely pick up a partner and be on his way to making a relationship with that person before dinner.

What he wanted had nothing to do with sex, though. Nothing to do with the easy camaraderie of those all at the same level and under the same pressures. Or little, at any rate. His peers could probably empathize with his struggles, but Obi-Wan did not want to expose himself that way. What he was going through was a private thing, and to casually talk of it to near-strangers... he couldn't do that. It was hard enough to talk of it with Master Etil, who had a healer's right to know.

So why was here? Why had he come here instead of the showers?

Obi-Wan straightened, and walked over to the flying apparatus. He'd had his fall on a similar piece of equipment; this was where he needed the practice most.

For his own edification, he would continue to meditate on the question of what was a wise man. As a penance for his wounded soul.

Qui-Gon chose to meditate in a tiny garden near the top of the Jedi temple. Force-shielded, the garden would not otherwise survive in the heavily polluted air of Coruscant. Jedi lovingly tended the small enclosure, and it felt peaceful, carrying the psychic remnants of many past meditations. Flowers did not bloom in this garden. Rather, it was given over to an exploration of the brush shrubs once native to Coruscant. Now that Coruscant had no natural flora or fauna, it was a well-preserved rarity, from a time when the Jedi temple had once stood in splendid isolation in the middle of its own garden, before the city and the planet had grown around it and choked that life off.

He settled himself on the stone meant for meditation, worn from the imprint of many knees over the years.

Loosing his tight control over his mind, he opened himself to the Force. He methodically sought out the sources of tension in his mind and body, soothing them until his mind was as at peace as it was going to get with his current problem weighing on his mind.

What to do about Obi-Wan. What to do about his own feelings. What his own feelings were.

The last was the most important question. He had already seen to Obi-Wan's disposition, and his apprentice would be well looked after. What to do with his feelings would and should flow from what those feelings were. What they were... well, that was the topic of this session.

Qui-Gon let his mind drift back over the years, remembering his first clear recollection of the boy Obi-Wan had been. Of the uncontrolled power within him, and how awkward and confused he had been. He remembered the lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and another boy, and the anger in him. Qui-Gon had not taken Obi-Wan as an apprentice then. At the time, he had been certain that Obi-Wan was not ready to become a padawan, was not in fact, ready to be a Jedi at all.

Now, looking back, he knew that he had seen all the wrong sides of Obi-Wan. No, the boy had not been perfect, or even mostly good at that stage, but he'd had potential.

Potential that had been brought out during Qui-Gon's mission to Bandomeer. It occurred to him that Obi-Wan's nascent abilities had only been teased into reality through the boy's contact with himself. With his guidance by a master.

Which was a shame, and a mark against the Academy, which should have had the best masters working in training the rawness in their students, who should have been able to direct Obi-Wan's energies. So quickly had the boy changed under Qui-Gon's eyes that it was clear that it had been guidance which was lacking, not anything in the boy.

When he had called Obi-Wan 'padawan' in the mines, it had not been to distract the boy from his intended sacrifice of himself. No, it had been the truth, something that had slipped from his lips as easily as though his heart had always known it, as though the decision had been made long ago and only then was his mind telling him about it.

He loved Obi-Wan, loved the quality that had caused a 13-year-old to decide the lives of those in and above the mines were more important than his own. Obi-Wan was unique, and well-worth any time that Qui-Gon had spent with him, any effort that Qui-Gon had gone to.

As a stripling, and now as the man he was becoming, Obi-Wan had only further claimed his place in Qui-Gon's heart and life. It was a secret grief of Qui-Gon's that in a few short years, he would be releasing Obi-Wan to follow his own path as a Jedi Knight. He had grown accustomed to Obi-Wan's presence, had grown accustomed to that flare of energy and life at his side.

But, yet, still, he did not feel love. Not as Obi-Wan had felt when he had broached the subject with Qui-Gon. Not that kind of love.

Deep affection, yes. Love it was, but not the wild flaring of attraction and need and wanting that Obi-Wan possessed. He knew his apprentice's feelings, could sense his emotions except when one or the both of them were tightly shielded. It was the nature of their bond, and Qui-Gon never took advantage of it. But he knew.

So, too, had Obi-Wan known what he meant when Qui-Gon had told him that Obi-Wan already knew his feelings. How could Obi-Wan not know? If he had felt the same pull of infatuation and attraction that Obi-Wan did, Obi-Wan would have sensed it long before, if not in his thoughts, then in the way the Force altered its movements around them.

The issue could be resolved as simply as that. Qui-Gon felt nothing other than what was proper for his apprentice.

Could be, but it was not that simple, no matter how it appeared, Qui-Gon admitted to himself.

His personal definition of love was a commitment made to another person. He had made that kind of commitment when he had accepted Obi-Wan as his padawan. The bond that he and Obi-Wan shared was evidence of the emotion he had for his apprentice, better evidence than anything as transitory as a feeling. Qui-Gon rarely felt the churn of lesser emotions -- his own last disastrous infatuation had taught him that. He'd thought Xanatos could do know wrong, and had, indeed, only been waiting for his apprentice to achieve the rank of knight before speaking first of his own feelings. And then everything had gone wrong. Qui-Gon had worked hard at his control since then until emotions broke around him like waves around a rock. It was how he retained his calmness, and it was a useful attribute for a Jedi to possess.

And useless when it came to examining his feelings toward Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon had so thoroughly shut himself off from transitory emotion that he didn't know how he felt other than that deep groundswell of affection that had always been there and would always be there.

And he doubted that that was what Obi-Wan had in mind when he said love.

Qui-Gon sighed and looked up at the gnarled branches of the tree. This was not helping. He could not fathom his own feelings.

And if he could not fathom them, then other courses of action than the one he had already taken were cut off from him. Qui-Gon examined them again. If, if he had returned Obi-Wan's feelings, then something else could have happened. Two paths to take there, and neither of which he could, in all good conscience, walk now. It was true that the bond between a master and an apprentice could deepen into something more. The Council encouraged it. Indeed, that was part of the reason that a master was limited to one apprentice, and why the apprentice always stayed close to their master. The bond.

A master-apprentice bond that continued into a bond between master and knight could prove a solid partnership, a strength for the council to depend upon. If he walked that path, he would not take on another apprentice. A new apprentice could not share in their bond, and anything less than a full bond would be unfair to the apprentice.

Not that that would ever come to pass.

Qui-Gon emptied his mind, pushing aside the question of his feelings, and meditated instead on nothing at all, bringing peace and stillness back to a mind that was unused to anything else.

Once done with his routine, Obi-Wan settled down on the floor, near the others but not a part of them. It felt comfortable to be testing his physical limits, although he had come no further toward an answer to his question. Any of his questions. Instead, he'd poured himself into the kata on the flying rig. The physical activity demanded of a Jedi came easily to him, and he exulted in the feeling of his body moving in tune with the Force. That attunement was as close as he could come to peace.

But now he was ground-bound once again, and his problems settled around him like the heavy Jedi cloak he was not wearing.

"So what are you in for?" came a voice from behind Obi-Wan, startling him.

Obi-Wan half-turned, to see another man edging into place beside him, a friendly smile on his face. "I'm... I'd rather not talk about it."

The young man shrugged. He was dark-haired, and dressed in deep blue, an odd color for an apprentice to be wearing in a practice hall, or anywhere at all for that matter. "Not a problem. Just curious." He extended his hand. "I'm Rojer. And you?"

"Obi-Wan."

"That's right. I knew I recognized you. You were three years behind me at the Academy."

Obi-Wan smiled tentatively in reaction to Rojer's enthusiasm. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"That's all right. To answer my own question, *I'm* here for a bonding ceremony. Once the council approves of it, and my master finishes her meditation." Rojer turned serious for a moment. "I'm supposed to be doing my own meditating, although I can't imagine being any more sure about this than I am."

He didn't have any idea what Rojer was talking about. "What kind of bonding ceremony? Is she your new master?"

Rojer laughed. "No, silly. We're being bonded." At Obi-Wan's look of confusion, the other apprentice began to amplify. "You've got a master, right?" He didn't wait for a response. "Haven't you ever felt anything more for your master than just, well, respect?"

Obi-Wan controlled the flush that threatened to rise into his cheeks. He could see where this was heading, and didn't like the feeling that this had been arranged. Someone else with his exact problem had approached him? It didn't seem likely. It *did* seem like something Master Etil might have set up. "So?"

"So, this is serious. And we're going to formalize it. Have a commitment ceremony. Assuming that the council agrees, and I doubt they'd disagree unless they thought we were wrong about how we feel, and we're not."

"You can really do that?" Obi-Wan asked despite himself.

"Sure." Rojer regarded him strangely. "Didn't you know that? My master told me what might happen when she realized my feelings weren't going to change."

"My master just left me here," Obi-Wan admitted, aware that the other man would know what he was talking about. But Rojer was someone he could talk to, someone going through the same thing he was. Sort of. Rojer obviously didn't have the same difficulties that Obi-Wan currently had.

"Ah," Rojer said knowledgeably. "The old 'you don't know what you really feel' tactic. That happens a lot. Practically a rite of passage. Say, what number are you?"

"What?"

"Which padawan are you to your master? Can't be the first, although I'd bet on anything up to fourth assuming that your master isn't from an especially long-lived race."

"Third."

"Makes sense."

"How does it make sense?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling both defensive and curious all at once. It didn't make sense to him at all.

"Well, firstly, your master -- he or she?"

"He."

"He can't have bonded fully to a previous padawan or you wouldn't be here. Unless the padawan died, but then I'd think it'd be too hard for him to take on another one. And you're third, so he's got to be fairly old to have trained two before you. Probably can't figure out what you'd see in him."

"My master is not old."

Rojer held up his hands in mock-surrender. "All right, all right. Love is blind, and all that. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Obi-Wan did not bother to protest that he was not worrying about it. He was. "Why not?"

"Worrying won't change anything. If it was meant to be, then it'll happen. And if it wasn't, then it won't."

"It's not as simple as that."

Rojer smirked. "Maybe not, but if you think of it that way, it's easier to handle."

Obi-Wan shook his head, closing his eyes. Rojer didn't understand. For that matter, *he* didn't understand. "Why didn't Master Qui-Gon *tell* me..."

"Tell you what?" Rojer prompted when Obi-Wan did not continue.

"Never mind. I know why he didn't say anything. He doesn't love me like that."

Rojer shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't. You are number three, after all. If he was going to bond with someone, he'd probably have already done it. If not with one of his padawans, then with another master."

Yes, that was probably right. Obi-Wan felt renewed depression wash over him. The ridiculousness of the difference between their ages, the solid certainty that he was not really in love. The conviction that Qui-Gon, who he trusted, was right and that Obi-Wan was mistaken. The bitterness of knowing that Qui-Gon didn't feel like he did, and never would. And that he was being penalized for his inappropriate actions by being separated from the one source of kindness and affection that he had ever been able to depend upon. He fought back a sob, but a stifled cry emerged anyway. He bit his lip before Rojer could hear anything further. He was ashamed.

Unexpectedly, a cushion of support placed itself between him and the pain, supporting him.

The signature was Rojer's, and Obi-Wan looked at the other man, surprised at both his compassion and his ability to do such a thing. Surprised but grateful. "Thank you."

Rojer reached out his arm and touched Obi-Wan's shoulder. "No problem. Anytime."

Obi-Wan leaned against the young man, head resting on his chest. It wasn't who he wanted, but the comfort felt good. He needed it, needing this undemanding care, the affection he customarily received from Qui-Gon, the affection that was completely gone now.

"You're welcome." Rojer held him carefully. "You.. you don't seem to be all right. I mean, you seem to be taking this too hard."

Obi-Wan sat up abruptly, moving away from Rojer. "Is there an easy way to take it?"

"I don't know. Haven't tried it myself. But you seem awfully affected for someone who's supposed to be realizing that there are other stars in the universe."

"It's my second day here," Obi-Wan offered, not knowing what else to say.

"Maybe that's it then." Rojer regarded him with troubled eyes. "Maybe you should talk to your master again. Make him see how upset you are about having to be apart from him. This isn't good."

Obi-Wan shook his head sadly. "He wouldn't want to see me."

"Are you sure about that?"

Part Six

It turned out that Rojer was anticipating the bonding ceremony by wearing blue. As Obi-Wan had suspected, Rojer hadn't come to work out, not in that outfit. Not that the other man had said so -- but he had not been in the salle when Obi-Wan entered it, and he'd left as soon as Obi-Wan excused himself.

Blue for bonding, then.

And Obi-Wan was not good enough to bond to.

His grief was becoming too deep for tears, and he could not think what to do. Meditation, always meditation was the Jedi answer to nearly every problem, and yet, that wasn't the answer Obi-Wan wanted. His thoughts churned when he meditated. He could find no stillness there of late. He wanted to seek out his master, and be comforted. To receive Qui-Gon's unfailing support, which was granted no matter what or why Obi-Wan was suffering.

But then he remembered his rejection of the morning from Qui-Gon, and shuddered. He did not wish to repeat that. Too many rejections, even one more, perhaps, would be enough to break him down into helpless tears. Or something even worse.

He depended on Qui-Gon, and he now knew that for the weakness that it was. If he were a proper padawan, he would be able to stand on his own. Would be able to handle himself better than this.

That he couldn't was yet again proof of his inadequacy.

He found his steps leading him to the dining hall. It was nearly time for the evening meal.

Dully, he wondered if he might see his master there. And what his reaction would be if he did. Would it feel better to be able to see him -- or worse to see and not be able to have?

When he entered the dining hall, he searched the crowd for his master, but did not see him. *Just as well,* he thought, *just as well.*

Master Etil pulled herself out of the jumble of Jedis surrounding her, and came to him. "How are you? Did your session with Master Bith go well?"

"Yes, thank you, Master Etil."

"Good. And now you've come down for something to eat, I see. Mind if I join you?"

It would keep him from sinking into the despairing pit his thoughts had become. "No, I don't mind."

"Good again." They seated themselves at the end of a table somewhat removed from the others. Near enough to the table where Yoda sat, it kept all those who had something to hide -- which included all of the juniors and most of the apprentices -- away from them. It was the nearest thing to an empty table. There were two seats between Etil and the closest person, and four seats before Obi-Wan and the closest person on his side.

"How good would you say you were?"

"How good? Not very."

"Not very as an apprentice, or to where you'd like to be, or to becoming a knight?"

He shrugged. "All of those, I suppose. There's some things I do all right at, but I've still got a lot to learn. I just want to make Master Qui-Gon proud of me."

"He is, you know."

Obi-Wan dropped his fork. "He's proud of me?"

"Yes, he is. I heard him say it."

"That's---" *Amazing* he thought, as a small glow of happiness began to rise within him.

Etil watched him search himself for something to say, but went on instead of waiting for a response. "I think he's right. I talked with Master Bith. He thinks you've got astounding physical gifts -- if it was just up to the physical portions of what a Jedi needs has to know, you could qualify as a knight right now."

*I could do _what_?*

She took in his stunned expression. "You are very good at some things, Obi-Wan. Very good. It may be un-Jedi to revel in it, but you should at least *know* it. It's the truth, and a Jedi shouldn't hide from the truth."

"I haven't been hiding," he protested. "I just-- well, there's just so much more to *learn*. Maybe I'm good, I don't know. But I know I'm not as good as Master Qui-Gon..."

"Who is a full master, and expected to be better than an apprentice. You set lofty standards for yourself, young Kenobi."

He blushed. "I didn't mean to sound impudent, Master Etil."

"You didn't. You sounded self-effacing, like you can't even believe that you might have a talent."

"Talent's a beginning," he said, remembering one of Qui-Gon's lessons. "It's training that tempers it and makes it into something more."

"As you have." She switched subjects. "I hear you spoke to Rojer Estevan this afternoon."

"Uh -- yes."

"Any questions? Anything you want to ask me about?"

*No. Definitely not.* "I-- thank you, Master Etil."

"Good." She tilted her head. "You haven't done anything wrong, you know. You've been put into your current situation because, frankly, your emotions are confused and you wouldn't know which way was up even in a gravity well. Your emotions are all mixed up with your master. The reason you're on your own now is not because you've failed in some way, but so that you don't have that factor making it harder to sort out what you really feel."

That sounded much better than the way Qui-Gon had put it. It didn't sound so much like his fault, but rather something like a new phase of meditation, something more active than what he'd been trying before.

"I'm going to help you with that. In your master's judgment, you've gone beyond the point where you could figure this out on your own. And he doesn't want to help you with it."

His heart sank within him. It was true, but it hurt to have it reaffirmed.

"Stop that right now," she said sharply. "I can see that look on your face, and I can feel you blaming yourself. A healer learns to read other people's energy patterns better than most other Jedi, and I can tell what you're feeling. It's not your fault that Qui-Gon can't handle his own feelings. If he could, I'd want him here right now. But he can't, and that leaves you to me."

"What's wrong with Master Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked almost shyly. It was easy to feel intimidated by this woman.

"It's not your business." Her voice softened. "It's nothing to do with you, Obi-Wan. Not your fault."

"You keep saying that things aren't my fault."

"Because you blame yourself for nearly everything that goes wrong. You aren't the center of the universe, boy, as much as it might seem to you that you are. Things happen for their own reasons, and you aren't the cause of it all."

"Of course, not, but..."

"But you still feel that way. I know. That's something we're going to have to work on. But first, I want you to think on this -- you're a padawan, and a good one. Good enough for any Master to be proud of, including your own. But the important thing is that you believe it. It's true that other people also believe you're good -- but it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It's what you think that matters. The Force comes from you. And your doubts, your feelings, all of that, affect the Force in you. If you trust yourself, the Force will be stronger because of it."

"I thought you said I wasn't the center of the universe," Obi-Wan said, amused despite himself.

She reached out to him, one finger touching the middle of his forehead. "You're the center of your own universe. Remember that. That's how it should be. But right now, that's not true. You've moved that center away from yourself, and it's sickening you, weakening you from the inside out. You've got to move it back."

He was confused. "Is it like centering myself when I meditate?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to understand. "Finding my center, I mean."

"Right. Something like that. Only at the moment, it's more like you're trying to center yourself on an object outside your body."

He tried to imagine the center of his body being outside himself, and felt dizzy. "But that would throw my balance off."

"Exactly. You've thrown your mental balance off the same way. You have to bring your center back inside yourself."

His brow furrowed, but he nodded, "I have to think about that."

"Good. Think, then do." She stood up.

"What if I can't?" he asked hurriedly. He hadn't thought she'd leave so soon.

"You can. Have faith in yourself. You're very good as an apprentice. You have the ability."

She walked off.

*And if I can't,* Obi-Wan thought, *I'm sure I'll see you again.*

Etil went directly to Mace Windu's quarters. He received her graciously, and gestured her to take a seat. As she did, he folded his hands. He did not ask her anything, but rather waited for her to speak first.

She began without preamble. "The situation's worse than you told me. The boy's a mess. Confused. Insecure. And his master... I spoke with him. He was unaware of the boy's problem with insecurity. And he's hiding something. Whether it's just from others or from himself as well, I can't tell. But without full honesty from him, I can't, in good conscience, involve him in Obi-Wan's recovery. I want to keep them strictly separated. I don't think we can even risk putting him back with the boy. Qui-Gon is most of the problem all by himself. He's been encouraging the boy's insecurity, and he's the cause of the boy's lost center and his feelings."

Windu looked somber. "I've sensed confusion in Master Qui-Gon as well. We spoke of it. Qui-Gon told me that he had wished to send his apprentice away, and indeed, thought that finding him another master might be the right thing to do."

"He did?" Etil asked, fitting that new piece of information into the puzzle that was Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Yes. But before you rush to judgment, he intimated that it would cause him too much pain to do so, even though his convictions were telling him it was the right action to take."

"Complicated. More complications." Etil shook her head. "You know that I can't make *use* of any of this information until he brings it up. What's critical in all this is Qui-Gon's lack of clear communication with his apprentice. He doesn't seem to have told Obi-Wan that he approves of him and is proud of him--"

"Perhaps to ward off an inflated sense of self in the boy?"

She snorted. "The boy has no self-confidence. He needs that praise and he hasn't been getting it."

"It may be a matter of style. I've known Master Qui-Gon Jinn for a long time, and he has never been the most demonstrative of men--"

"Well, now it's hurting his apprentice. And either he's got to change, or we've got to get his apprentice out of there. Humility is one thing, but insecurity is quite another."

Windu spread his hands. "If that is what must be done, then it will be done. Still, I think that you are giving up on other solutions too easily."

"Maybe. Maybe not. If anything, I'm giving up on Qui-Gon."

"Don't. There is more to him than there seems."

"Well, he'd better show it to me and to the boy, then, before it's too late."

"Have faith in the Force."

"I do. When it's with me." Her eyes twinkled.

"Some of the flaws you ascribe to Master Qui-Gon are your own."

"Who me? I'm blunt and open at all times. Highly demonstrative. Ask anybody."

"And it is through that demonstrativeness that you hide your own feelings."

She stared at him for a long moment, then laughed. "You know me too well. You're right, of course."

"As you can understand his flaw, perhaps you might be more patient with Master Qui-Gon?" Windu asked patiently.

"This isn't the same."

"I think it's exactly the same." He regarded her steadily. "You will not heal them together?"

She shook her head slightly. "I could. But I won't. Not without more cooperation from Qui-Gon. He's in denial on his own feelings, and he doesn't admit that there's even a problem with his apprentice, other than what Obi-Wan confessed to him directly. I tried speaking with him about it, and yes, I thought I was getting somewhere, but he closed up on me so fast at the first sign of vulnerability that I don't think he's ever going to crack. And if he doesn't admit that there's a problem and that he's part of it, then involving him would do more harm than good. And putting Obi-Wan back with him after I've healed him could reverse everything I've done and make Obi-Wan more dependent."

Windu shook his head. "I still believe that you are giving up too easily. I see a strong bond between them. If you will not heal them both, then heal the boy and let the future take its own course."

"I'd hoped to prepare Obi-Wan for a more permanent separation from his master."

"If must it be, then it will be. But do not act in haste. There still may be another way."

She stood. "I'll take that under advisement."

Mace Windu shook his head again, a wry smile touching the corners of his lips. "You will do as you will."

"Yes. I will." Etil left the room without a backward glance.

Obi-Wan returned to his quarters with a new thought to meditate on. Center himself on himself. It was a new concept.

Or, he thought, a very old one that he'd missed because it was so simple as to verge on the profound. Master Qui-Gon had scolded him often enough about not being able to see what was right in front of him, and indeed, Obi-Wan had always had the strangest difficulties with locating objects that had gone missing...

But no. He had promised Master Etil that he would not dwell on his faults. He would instead go forward with self-confidence -- what he had of it -- and work on centering.

He knelt on the floor, on a mat. It would help to cushion his legs, and allow him to immerse himself more fully into the meditation without having to monitor his body as closely for signs of fatigue.

Centering his mind. What exactly had Master Etil meant by that?

He thought about pleasing her, wondered again why she insisted on emphasizing that things were not his fault, and attempted to clear his mind.

How to center. How to center the way Etil wanted him to.

The way Etil would want him to.

His eyes snapped open. That was something there, wasn't it? How could he be centered on himself if he were so concerned about someone else's opinion? Instead, he should concentrate on doing it the way that felt right to him, trusting his own instincts, not hers, and not his master's. Trust *his* instincts...

He slipped easily into a grounded, centered position, and from there seamlessly into a meditative trance. Part of him marvelled at how easily it had been accomplished, and then set that thought aside.

What else had she mentioned? There had been something about meditation. Oh, yes. His thoughts were confused with his master's, and separation from his master would clarify his emotions.

He examined his feelings, weighing them dispassionately, without thought of what Qui-Gon would feel about them or how Qui-Gon might react. Instead, he touched each one, trying to see how much of each was coming from him, and how much was a response to external prompting.

*A lot,* he decided. A lot of his emotion was wrapped up in Qui-Gon's acceptance and approval of him. A desperate desire to please Qui-Gon. A feeling that he had to be good enough, had to be better in order to keep Qui-Gon, that anything less would lose him the most important person in his life. Even his affection was entirely wrapped up with Qui-Gon -- very little of his feelings were unconnected to his master.

He separated those emotions from his study, and examined what remained. Very little. A desire to belong that had strengthened over the past few days. Fear of aloneness, and something else, something that stood out only when his emotions were set out so clearly -- an emptiness that craved to be filled.

He realized then that Qui-Gon had been right. That he had been short-sighted. Nearly anyone *would* do. His need was basic, and not about love at all. It was about wanting to have someone, wanting to define himself in terms of someone else. Wanting to center himself around someone else as Master Etil had said. His ideas about love, his supposedly deep affection for Qui-Gon and the bittersweet yearning were not what remained when he sifted through his emotions and removed all that had to do with Qui-Gon. No, what remained was a different need, and he felt ashamed of himself.

*No, not ashamed,* he reminded himself. *Master Etil wouldn't like that."

Then, coming fully out of his trance, he laughed bitterly. Now he was trying to define himself in terms of Master Etil. He was still consumed by the same problem.

He needed help. He hoped that he would get it, that, if he were lucky, Master Etil might be willing to provide it, be willing to risk so much time and care on a failure like himself.

Obi-Wan laughed again, harder this time, tears coming to his eyes. He was denigrating himself again. So much for Etil's fine words about being proud of himself. He couldn't do that either. He couldn't even do what he knew he should do -- embrace his fear of being alone and conquer it. Everything he did was wrong.

Throwing himself on the narrow bed, he surrendered to the tears, accepting the emotion the only way he could, and cried himself to sleep like a brokenhearted child.

The sound of crying brought Qui-Gon out of his trance. Soft as it was, the noise leached through his barriers until it distracted him completely from his thoughts.

He gave up on meditation, and listened for the sound, concentrating on his hearing. It did not seem to have a source. Moving to one side of his room did not lessen or enlarge it.

Closing his ears, he listened with his mind, and then the sound grew louder.

He identified it quickly. Only one person could cry like that and still be heard by him. Only one person could so breach his barriers.

His apprentice.

He closed his eyes, standing there for a long moment, hurting inside. *Is it so hard for you, Obi-Wan? Have I done the wrong thing by choosing this path? I thought I could not care about you in the way that you wanted, but I find myself caring more than ever.*

Deciding, he tried to reach out to Obi-Wan, to comfort him mentally. But his padawan was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that Qui-Gon could not make a strong connection. He gave what support he could that way, painfully little, then broke the contact.

He would have to go to Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon pulled on his robe and wrapped the sash around himself. Going to Obi-Wan would mean forgetting completely about what he had been trying to accomplish by keeping himself separated from Obi-Wan. But principle was not more important than his apprentice's pain.

Urgency hurried his steps.

Qui-Gon found the room relatively quickly, using his sense of Obi-Wan to locate him. It still took several minutes, and the crying had grown quieter as he strode through the halls. He had just about determined to cast all of his composure and control aside when he reached Obi-Wan's quarters.

And found Master Etil reaching for the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked before he could stop himself, too caught up in his apprentice's emotions to care about the polite thing.

"I might ask you the same thing. What do you think you're doing?"

"I heard him crying..."

"And you came to help. How sweet. Did you think that seeing you now might make it harder for him to recover?"

"No." He was puzzled by her hostility.

"Because if you aren't ready to open your feelings to the boy as well as yourself, you're doing more harm than good by coming here."

That was a little plainer, although he still didn't understand her insistence on the issue of emotions. "He needs help."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But if he's supposed to break away from you, fostering his dependence on you is not going to help him. It'll do exactly the opposite."

"I never intended for him to break away completely -- I just thought it would be more appropriate if he found someone whom he could love, who would return his love."

"Same thing in the end." She shrugged. "Before he can do that, he needs to make a break with you, leave his feelings about you behind. Only after he's over that, will he be able to move on. And I don't know whether you'll be able to resume the same relationship again afterwards. No, I'm sure you won't be able to."

"So what do you suggest?" he asked. His patience came harder to him when he could feel Obi-Wan hurting on the other end of their bond. "That I ignore his pain?"

"If you can't give him more than you already have, then, yeah. That's what I suggest." She regarded him steadily. "So, what's it going to be? Are you ready to admit to what you feel about the boy?"

"There is nothing which to admit. He is my apprentice, and I care deeply about him," Qui-Gon said, frustrated both by himself and by her repeated questions on the topic. He felt what he felt. He was hiding nothing other than his own confusion.

"Then there's nothing for you to say to him, nothing that you have to say which he should hear," she said with a cold note of finality in her voice. "I think you should leave the boy to me. I will take care of him."

He could deal with that. He would deal with that.

But instead of entering Obi-Wan's room, Etil turned away, seemingly to leave.

"Aren't you going to go inside?" he asked, feeling shocked by her action.

She shook her head. "No. He's fallen asleep, can't you feel it? Time enough to talk with him tomorrow. I won't disturb what peace he's managed to find for himself." She gave him a long, steady look and then left.

Thus giving the implication that he should not either. Not in this matter, and not overall. Qui-Gon leaned against the wall, trying to get himself firmly under control. He wanted to go to Obi-Wan, wanted to sit silent vigil over his dreams and wrap him in a blanket of Force that would keep his dreams free of further thoughts that would distress him. Wanted to watch his apprentice wake, and see the pain he'd heard erased.

Wanted, but could not do.

Not without, if he could believe Etil, making things worse. He rested his head back against the stone wall of the corridor, feeling helplessness move through him. Act, or not act. Both carried the same penalties. Both left his apprentice hurting afterwards.

And somehow, *that* was what left a lump burning in his guts.

Part Seven

Qui-Gon watched the lax face of his apprentice as Obi-Wan slept.

He knelt next to Obi-Wan's bed, with the door closed soundly behind him. He was still not sure that this was the wisest course of action to take. That it was the one that felt right to his heart, he knew, but he did not know if this was the right thing for Obi-Wan.

But he would do his best to make it so.

No doubt, if Master Etil found him, she would scold him. And quite probably take the very logical action of securing the door so that it would not open to him again. This time it had opened for him -- and it heartened Qui-Gon immeasurably that Obi-Wan did not yet wish to push his master that far away, even as it saddened him to realize that that probably would have been wiser.

Obi-Wan slept restlessly. His bedclothes were wound around his curled-up body, and he had a fistful of them clutched in one hand while the other arm held on tightly to his pillow. The dried remnants of tear tracks stained his face, and he looked entirely vulnerable, and too broken to bear.

Sadness bowed Qui-Gon's head, as he whispered, "Oh, my padawan. What have I done to you?"

Slowly and gently, he brought down his own barriers, opening himself to Obi-Wan's mind through the connection of their bond. Obi-Wan's thoughts were less shielded than normal. Raw spikes of pain jumped out from him, and Qui-Gon laid a soothing hand on the torn and bleeding edges of Obi-Wan's mind.

*If this is what Etil meant by breaking him so that he could heal straighter, I most certainly do not approve.* It had only been one day, after all. How had his apprentice been brought so low in a single day?

He let those thoughts go free as not useful in the current situation, then settled himself more thoroughly into the task of soothing Obi-Wan's mind.

On a deeper level than the surface trauma, Obi-Wan was dreaming. Qui-Gon could catch glimpses of that dream, half-formed images racing through Obi-Wan's mind at incredible speed, with detail more sharp than any memory could provide.

Obi-Wan had something of the foreseeing ability. Qui-Gon did not. His talents lay elsewhere, and indeed, he was gifted at calmness, and the delicate arts of mediation and negotiation. A good balance for Obi-Wan's energy.

Except right now, when dreamwalking would have been a better skill for him to have. From the glimpses he could catch, Obi-Wan's dream was disturbing and painful to him. The anguish of his mind was very clear.

Qui-Gon collected his energy, sent it into the Force, and then, very carefully, directed it toward Obi-Wan. He delicately soothed his padawan's mind, applying balm in the wounded places, while shoring up Obi-Wan's weakening barriers. There were many troubles on his apprentice's mind, and Qui-Gon did his best to ease these, placing layers of unconscious "everything will be all right" thoughts to comfort Obi-Wan.

When Qui-Gon was done, he opened his eyes, feeling somewhat shaky. He'd poured all he could into his padawan. He only hoped it had been enough.

But then, perversely, the nightmare seemed to worsen. Obi-Wan began to make small incoherent noises, even as his fingers opened and closed in tiny movements mimicking the larger motions he was no doubt making in his dream.

Qui-Gon placed his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead, softly stroking the sweaty braid away from Obi-Wan's face. "It will be all right, Obi-Wan," he said quietly, soothingly, in a deep, even tone. And remembering Etil's words about Obi-Wan's self-confidence, he added, "You are loved and wanted, Obi-Wan. You are cared for."

Obi-Wan's restlessness did not ease. Instead, it seemed to grow worse, as though he were shaking himself awake in the aftermath of a dream too painful to endure.

Qui-Gon removed his hand just as Obi-Wan came awake, gasping for breath. His face was turned away from Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon could see the outline of his padawan's features. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, seemed to choke on something, and then said in a soft, broken voice, "Master. Oh, master. Where are you?" A sob choked him off, and he began to cry quietly.

Qui-Gon could stand it no longer. "I'm here, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan turned on his side, a sleepy look of bewilderment on his face as he saw the dark shape kneeling next to his bed. "Master?"

"Yes, it's me."

"No, you're not real. 'S just a dream. You'll leave if I reach for you."

Qui-Gon reached for him first, long fingers stroking Obi-Wan's cheek. "I am really here, my padawan."

The soft touch broke Obi-Wan down and he began to cry in earnest, first in soft sobs, then gulping in great gasps of air as an ugly harsh sound was rung from him.

Seriously alarmed, Qui-Gon leaned forward, and then pulled his apprentice to him, until Obi-Wan's head was resting awkwardly against his chest. "Please don't cry. I'm here. I am real. I promise you that."

Somehow the physical contact seemed to break through where the words had not, and Obi-Wan's sobs slowed, and then died into sniffles. "Why did you leave me?" he asked, voice strained and raw.

Now was not the time, Qui-Gon decided, for a lecture on the necessity of controlling one's emotions, or for explaining how it was that Qui-Gon came to the decision of bringing Obi-Wan to Coruscant, or even for expressing the doubts Qui-Gon was beginning to have about the consequences of his actions. It was time for simplicity and straightforwardness in his comfort. In any case, he was not sure that Obi-Wan was fully in the waking world. "I was wrong to leave you, Obi-Wan. But I am here now. And," he repeatedly awkwardly, "you are loved."

In response, Obi-Wan clutched him tightly. "Now I know 'm dreaming," came the muffled reply from against his chest.

"And why is that, padawan?" Qui-Gon asked in the same level tone that he would have used in the middle of training or while listening to Obi-Wan report on a mission-related situation. He hoped the tone would calm Obi-Wan. He hoped still more that this did not presage a hysterical change from wild grief to wild humor and then back again.

"You'd never tell me you loved me. Even if it was true."

"It *is* true, Obi-Wan. I have loved you for many, many years." Very true. He had and he did. He cared deeply about his pupil.

Muffled crying started again, and Qui-Gon moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to hold Obi-Wan without straining his apprentice's neck or his own back. He held Obi-Wan closely during the whole transfer and after -- Obi-Wan needed him. He was not about to betray the trust that Obi-Wan was showing him, trust he wasn't sure he deserved, but that Obi-Wan gave freely in allowing Qui-Gon to see this vulnerable side of him.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, concerned, as the sobbing did not abate.

"Only thing worse than dying inside," Obi-Wan said softly, not looking up, tears heavy in his voice, "is being shown what you can't have while you're dying of the pain."

Qui-Gon's eyes closed as he felt tears prickling at his own eyes. Obi-Wan *was* shattered. Qui-Gon knew now that he had handled this situation poorly. He should have found another way to deal with this, walked one of the other paths, no matter how much pain it would have caused him. Anything would be better than to hear Obi-Wan so hopeless, so broken.

Qui-Gon bent his head, brushing Obi-Wan's hair with his lips. "Everything is all right. Things will get better now. I promise."

"I want to believe you."

"Then do," Qui-Gon said firmly.

Obi-Wan's body shook, whether with a chuckle or renewed tears, Qui-Gon couldn't tell.

He gathered Obi-Wan up against his body for a moment, and held him close before replacing him in the bed. Qui-Gon smoothed the bedclothes over his apprentice, carefully tucking him in. Sleepy eyes watched his every move.

When he had finished, he stilled, looking at Obi-Wan. "Sleep now, Obi-Wan. I will watch over your dreams."

Obi-Wan's mouth turned up just a little at the corners, into an almost smile, and then -- with a trust Qui-Gon could feel all the way through him -- closed his eyes, and laid back against his pillow, before sinking into a sleep that, this time, was restful and healing.

Part Eight

Morning came slowly, as if unwilling to wake the young man sleeping on the bed.

The older man, kneeling on the floor in meditation, had not slept, and indeed, was unaware that morning had come. Part of Qui-Gon's consciousness was devoted to monitoring his apprentice's state, and the rest was devoted to the problem of what to do.

He didn't know. It wasn't even the same problem anymore. It had started out as something that seemed simple. Obi-Wan had romantic feelings for him that he did not return. Now... now it was a tangled mess.

To Qui-Gon, the important problem was the immediate one. Obi-Wan's emotional stability. Once a semblance of serenity had been returned, then would his apprentice be able to make correct choices. As his padawan was at the moment, any choices he made would be governed by a fractured heart. And that would not do.

But what could Qui-Gon do?

He had been meditating on that question for some hours, pausing only to stretch his body or to ensure that Obi-Wan got the restful slumber that his apprentice needed. He was determined to stay at it until Obi-Wan awoke.

Obi-Wan's dreams were jumbled and confused. A multitude of people seemed to be condemning him for some barely remembered sin -- wearing his robe at the incorrect angle to show proper respect, he remembered now. Everything he said to defend himself was useless. The Council would determine that he was unfit to be a Jedi.

Master Etil came toward him, and put her hand on his shoulder. Turning to the council, she said in a loud, clear voice, "Respected Masters, not-so-respected knights, and all the rest of you heathen. There is nothing wrong with this boy. He can't center, he's an emotional cripple, and oh, yes, I'm giving him advice on blatantly obvious things that he *still* can't see for himself -- but there's nothing wrong with him."

The court responded, "But what about his robe?"

"Who cares about robes? Have him take it off if you don't like the way he's wearing it," she responded defiantly.

The response came in a chorus of voices demanding that he take off his robe, and why was he allowed to wear it if he couldn't do it properly anyhow, even an unchosen child would know how to wear a robe, and in any case, they were going to throw him out of the Jedi, so he didn't need a robe.

Obi-Wan wanted to run, wanted to protest. He looked up at Master Etil, but she shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. There's nothing to run from. This is normal."

Frightened, he pulled back from the horde of people approaching him, long fingers and talons outstretched to tear the robe from his back--

--when another robe, dark brown in hue, was draped around him. A hand clasped his shoulder, and then suddenly, he was a step behind a reassuring bulk. "Will this robe do?" he heard Qui-Gon ask.

Obi-Wan wanted to feel relief at his master defending him, but he knew that it couldn't be so.

It wasn't. Master Etil turned on Qui-Gon. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here. You don't know what you're doing. This is perfectly natural. The boy will get through it."

Obi-Wan tried to protest, but no one seemed to hear him. He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

"No! No!" he shouted, but it made no impression on the crowd advancing for him, and then Master Etil jumped on Master Qui-Gon, biting him and ripping at him herself while the assembled council advanced on him, and then...

"It's all right, Obi-Wan," he heard his master say.

"But, but, you're dead. I saw her kill you and--"

Qui-Gon's voice wasn't listening to him. It went on. "Everything will be all right, Obi-Wan. You are safe."

He turned toward the source of that voice, and to his horror, saw a Force-ghost standing behind him. His master's ghost. Qui-Gon *was* dead, and nothing would ever be all right again.

A small boy tugged at the hem of Obi-Wan's tunic. "What are you doing? Why are you talking to the wall, Master Obi-Wan?"

"I'm not your master," Obi-Wan said to the boy.

The boy visibly wilted. "Nobody wants me. Not even you. And you're not even a proper Jedi."

He could hear the Force-ghost speaking to him again, but it was too much, too much horror and wrongness and his life was over, only he was living it, and it had all gone so *wrong*, and--

And then his face was being held between two hands, and the physical contact centered Obi-Wan on the waking world. Shaking, he opened his eyes. "That wasn't real. Please don't let that have been real."

"It was only a dream," his master said, staring down at him with a concerned look.

Only the hands on the sides of his head kept him from trying to make a horizontal leap backwards. "G-g-ghost," he said, voice trembling. "You're dead."

The hands slipped down from his face to his arms, pulling him upright in bed. "I am *not* dead, Obi-Wan. I am right here, and very real."

Some of the dazed look left Obi-Wan's eyes. "Well, you *were* dead," he said, with as much composure as he could muster.

Qui-Gon shook his head. The concerned look did not leave his face. "Well, I'm alive now."

The feel of Qui-Gon's hands stroking up and down the sides of his arms was slowly beginning to penetrate his consciousness. Obi-Wan looked around the room, orienting himself. It was the small chamber he'd sought out after his master had told him to do so. It looked to be morning. And, for some reason, his master was there.

"Is something wrong, master?" he asked, still not entirely awake, but quite sure that his master wouldn't have come unless there was.

Qui-Gon released him. "Not precisely."

"Have I done something wrong, master?" Obi-Wan asked, fully awake now, and very puzzled.

"No. I heard your crying last night, and came to you. Your sleep was uneasy, and I remained to calm you."

Obi-Wan flushed. Yes, he was the very picture of the proper Jedi apprentice. Crying, having nightmares... what was next? "I'm sorry, master. I didn't mean to bother you."

"You didn't bother me, padawan. It is my duty and my pleasure as your master to aid you when things like this happen."

Obi-Wan flushed again, and looked down.

"It's too hard for you, isn't it, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, looking at the top of his apprentice's head. "I intended to allow you the freedom to find your own future, and instead, I've cut you off from something you don't know how to live without."

Words came spilling out of Obi-Wan in a desperate rush. He was wrong, he was needy, and it had caused his master to second guess himself when it was Obi-Wan who had to change, despite the difficulty of it. "I apologize for my dependence, master. I know it's something I have to work on. Master Etil spoke with me about it. She told me that I was trying to center on other people, and that's why I've been having problems. I have to center on myself, and I tried that last night, and it worked. I... I figured out while meditating that the fault is mine. I try to use other people's guidelines as a rule to live my own life, and that's wrong. I've been doing that with you, and I didn't realize it."

When he finally sputtered to a stop, Qui-Gon was looking at him, his expression sad.

"Have I said something wrong, master?" Obi-Wan asked, aching at the thought of having disappointed his master again.

Qui-Gon shook his head, and reached out to his apprentice, hand gentle on his shoulder. "Obi-Wan, you are supposed to look to your master for guidance. That is what a padawan does. Had you thought of that?"

He hadn't. "No, master."

"Then think on that," Qui-Gon said kindly, letting his hand drop. He considered his apprentice with a measuring glance. "I have come to the conclusion that this is not the right path for you."

"What isn't, master?" Obi-Wan asked, anxious all over again. Only Qui-Gon's presence calmed him, that and his touches. It seemed that Qui-Gon had touched him more this morning that he had in months previous. And he was here... it was though long weeks had gone by, with Obi-Wan exiled on a hostile planet. And yet it had only been one day. One day, and he was forgetting all of his training, his emotions spilling from him like water from a broken pipe.

"I want you to return to our quarters. Return to our usual pattern of living. I want you close by. It would be better for the both of us. And," Qui-Gon's mouth quirked, "as I have been forcibly reminded, it may be causing problems for you to be so separated from me."

Obi-Wan started to protest, but his master waved to him to remain silent.

"No, Obi-Wan. I have searched my feelings, and believe it to be the truth." His gaze was level and serious. "I did not send you away because of any fault in you. I thought it was the wisest thing to do, and now, in retrospect, I see that I was wrong. And," he swallowed, "I have been neglectful in not telling you that I love you very much, and value you greatly, my padawan."

Obi-Wan's heart stretched until it felt like it would burst open. His mouth had fallen open, and he gaped at Qui-Gon until he realized what he was doing and resumed a more formal posture. His doubts had been driven out of him, and all he could think of was his master's words. "I... I thank you, master." Then, more shyly. "I love you as well, master."

"I know, Obi-Wan. I know."

After that amazing revelation, Qui-Gon stood up. "I will leave you to your morning routine. Can I expect to see you in our quarters by lunchtime?"

"Sooner than that, Master," Obi-Wan promised, suddenly excited once again about the possibility of living life.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "There is no need to hurry. I will see you for the noon meal, then."

He was turning to go when Obi-Wan thought of a possible problem. "Master? What about Master Etil? And my training session with Master Bith this afternoon?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I will speak with Etil. I suspect that is how I will be spending my morning. For now, practice with Master Bith. Learning a different style may benefit you."

Obi-Wan nodded, happy now that his center had returned. It was Qui-Gon. It troubled him to think that Master Etil might be right, and that he was unbalanced by having Master Qui-Gon as his center, but it felt so right this way, that he must surely have been trying to walk without legs without his master.

"Thank you, master."

Qui-Gon smiled at him, and left.

Obi-Wan felt entirely happy. Everything would be all right.

And then he remembered. His problems settled over him again in the absence of his master's reassuring presence. *I was sent away because I fell in love with Qui-Gon. Now that I'm to return, well, that's _still_ wrong. What am I going to do? I can't bear to be sent away again. And I can't stop loving him...*

He didn't know what to do. Suddenly a dark shadow had been cast over the brightness of the immediate future, and Obi-Wan shuddered.

He had woken from nightmare into reality. He would deal with the problems of reality as they came, and would do it calmly, as a Jedi should.

Because he had his master back again.

Part Nine

Qui-Gon had less distance to go than he thought to find Master Etil.

She was standing outside Obi-Wan's room, and did not look at all pleased to see him exiting it.

"Tell me," she said, "did you listen to anything I said to you?"

He folded his hands neatly into the sleeves of his robe, suddenly tired. "Let us find some other place to discuss this. I would prefer that Obi-Wan not be subjected to the spectacle of us arguing over his fate."

"Now you start thinking about his welfare," she grumbled before leaning away from the wall. "Well, come on. I'll take you to my quarters. It's about the only place I'm sure no one will walk in on us. And you're right about that, by the way -- I don't want the boy to have to see his elders divided over this issue. He needs solid guidance, not squabbling."

"I agree."

"So," she asked, as they walked through the corridors. "Did you think about what I said at all, or did you just go right in?"

"I thought over the matter, yes."

He didn't say anything further, and she gave him an impatient glance over her shoulder. "And what did you decide?"

"To go in," he replied calmly.

She glared at him. "You're lucky I'm on the Light Side. Or I'd be having serious ideas about tying you down and torturing you to get the information I want out of you. What's so wrong with telling people things? You thought more than just to go in the room. If you're any kind of worthwhile master for that boy at all, you had feelings. You weighed what was best for him in the long run with what was best in the short term." She paused, took a breath, and continued. "Or, at least, I hope you did, because if you didn't, and you're the kind of person who would thoughtlessly walk into a situation like that one without thinking of the boy's best interests, then you're not the kind of person who should have ever been trusted with another human life."

Qui-Gon wasn't taken aback. "Are you certain you haven't gone over to the Dark Side?"

"There!" she exclaimed. "I just saw it. Evidence of a sense of humor." They had reached her quarters, and she led him inside. Not waiting for him to take a seat, she turned on him. "That's what I'm looking for. A sign that there's a human being under the Jedi mask."

"And if I say that there is?" he asked. "Is it really such a revelation?"

She scowled. "No. Not really. I'm sure there's a person under there, I'm just not sure how deep you hid him. If you've hid him too deep, I don't think even you would be able to find him."

"Why are you looking?"

"Because if you're connecting with your apprentice as a person, you'll have greater success than if you connect with him as The Jedi Master. He needs you to be a person."

He was still standing. She hadn't offered him a seat, nor did she appear to want one for herself. "And what does that have to do with Obi-Wan's original problem? I brought him to Coruscant to allow him to make contact with others of his age. I do not see what my feelings, or my being a person as you call it, have anything to do with the matter. I expected him to form a relationship *outside* of our Master-apprentice bond."

She sniffed, and finally sat down. "What are you trying to achieve by doing that?"

He seated himself across from her as she spoke, looking curiously at her as she asked him her question. "What did I hope to achieve? I think that should be obvious. I wanted him to find an appropriate channel for his feelings."

"Did it occur to you that you would be weakening the bond you share by doing so?"

His eyebrows arched. "No. But if such a thing occurred, I suppose it would be natural, and thus something to be expected and worked around."

She smiled humorlessly. "You would. Try this -- can you tell me why you chose that route instead of accepting the boy's feelings and letting them being part of your bond, not excluding them as you've done?"

"I don't return them..."

"Not what I meant," she said, sweeping that objection away before it was fully vocalized. "Let's use little words here, and if I'm insulting your knowledge, so be it. I've been assuming that you knew that you don't have to share the boy's feelings to incorporate them into your bond. You have to acknowledge them, you have to live with them, and you have to support him, but you don't have to return them." She looked at him sharply. "I was assuming you know that, because I've never seen a truly tight Master-apprentice pair-bond choose to handle the situation in the way that you have. Pushing the boy aside like you have, while done, is usually done when the apprentice is incapable of being serious about anyone, or when there's strain in the bond to begin with. Now, I'm getting from the boy that he's more attached to you than that. And I wouldn't think that you'd pull the stunt you did last night if you didn't care about him. So, Master Qui-Gon, starting over from the beginning -- what are you hiding, who from, and why?"

He could only stare at her. He could not remember having been so taken apart by someone since his own padawan days. "I did not think of it that way," he said, a little shaken.

"That much was becoming very obvious. Now answer the question."

"How?" he asked simply, meeting her eyes with a clear, direct gaze. "I have searched my heart and found nothing hiding there. If I have nothing hidden, how can I be hiding it from someone, and with what motive?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "You're very frustrating, you know that? Let's take this in little steps. Do you have a deep bond with your apprentice?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said firmly. Of that he was certain.

"Good. Do you want to keep the boy as your padawan?"

"Yes."

"Good again. Now for a hard one -- why did you push him away?"

"Because," he explained again, "I did not return his feelings."

"Ah-ah," she said holding up a finger. "That's not enough. You handled it the way you did for a reason. Something about letting him get that close to you bothered you, even if you don't want to tell me about it. You pushed him away *because* he was getting too close." She turned penetrating eyes on him. "So, tell me, why would it bother you to have someone get close to you? What makes you afraid of that?"

*Xanatos*. The thought flashed across his mind, and he shut it down almost as quickly as it had came. He knew what she meant now. "I see your point."

"Do you? I don't think so. I haven't even gotten to my point. So now you think maybe you know why you pushed him away. But you still haven't told me how you really feel about the boy. Was your decision a matter of undealt-with fear, or was there something else in there, too?"

He studied her with cautious eyes. He was beginning to respect her abilities. "Such as?"

"I could tell you what I think, but you wouldn't believe it. Let me ask another question. Which possibility are you really trying to push away? That you acknowledge the boy's feelings and that you don't return them, and then have to face working that into your bond? Or that you won't be able to do it because if you really acknowledged those feelings, you might see that you returned them?"

He started to protest that he truly didn't return Obi-Wan's feelings when she held up her hand.

"No, don't answer me out loud. You wouldn't tell me the real answer anyway. *That* much I've figured out. What I want is for you to think it over and admit to yourself what the answer is. I'll tell you right now that I think it's the second of the two. Acknowledging the boy's feelings would leave you wide open for something you don't want to face. And you know as well as I do that you've got to face things as a Jedi."

That much he could agree with, and he nodded. It was a basic lesson -- face your fears, don't run from them. It didn't apply here, of course, but still, the principle was true. "And your plans now for Obi-Wan?"

She eyed him shrewdly. "The boy doesn't need two masters squawking over him. He wouldn't know which way to turn. He's already painfully in awe of the both of us. Having to answer us both would turn him speechless. Of course, he'd probably just be imitating you, but still. Let's do this -- what I want from you is for you to stop withholding yourself from the boy. Accept his feelings, and let him see yours. No, I'm not telling you you have to return them or any fool thing like that. But behave like a human being around him, and I won't interfere."

"And otherwise?"

Her eyes turned hard. "My interest in this matter is the boy's welfare. You're a master, you should be able to take care of yourself. He can't. If you aren't capable of caring for your apprentice, I'll recommend to the council that they find someone for him who *can* take care of him. That's what he deserves."

Qui-Gon wasn't pleased by the threat, but he had to agree that he himself would not trust anyone else with Obi-Wan's care, and had indeed intervened because he had felt that Etil was not taking adequate care of his padawan. "I will abide by that."

"Good." She stood up. "Now go talk to the boy. And if you won't, then let him talk to you. Just having you listen to him means a lot to him."

"I know," Qui-Gon said gently and then, accepting the end of their interview, left the room, in search of his own quarters, a hot shower, and some food.

Once in his room, Qui-Gon looked around. Obi-Wan had not yet arrived, and he had some time to think before he needed to deal again with his padawan.

And the subject was not an easy one. Despite his talk with Etil.

He entered the tiny shower area that he and Obi-Wan customarily shared, and made use of the facilities efficiently while musing over the problem. Was he afraid? Was that indeed the explanation behind the current difficulty?

He thought it could be so. As much as he would have liked to believe that there was no unfaced fear within him, there *were* things that had gotten put away because he had believed that the issues involved would never arise again.

And indeed, this particular issue had not arisen again -- that the current situation echoed of it was a trick of fate.

After his shower, he dressed, and padded down the corridor to seek his solitary breakfast, still lost in thought. There was little likelihood that he would be interrupted in his contemplations -- he was on Coruscant rarely enough to have formed any truly long-term relationships with his peers, and in any case, there were subtle physical cues, certain ways that the Force moved around a person that told the experienced observer who wished for privacy.

As he did now.

He acquired his meal, and sat down with his food. Was it time, then, to lay bare a portion of his heart that he had devoutly wished would never need to come to light?

After his second apprentice, Xanatos, had turned, Qui-Gon had thought little more on Xanatos' future as a Jedi. That was done with, and after regrets had been meditated through, and guilt dealt with, what might have been was no longer relevant. It was no longer important that Qui-Gon had loved that man, loved him with all of his heart, so greatly indeed that it was the shock of that betrayal when Xanatos had turned that had truly kept him from taking another apprentice for so long. His heart had needed time to heal before it could take on another bond.

But it had, and he had. He'd thought the pain to be dealt with.

Until now. Until he... until Obi-Wan had begun to fall in love with him.

Qui-Gon shook his head slightly, and concentrated on the simple mechanics of eating, thinking only of his food and of eating itself. Being perfectly in the moment, a skill of his, until he was the moment and neither past nor present nor future had any relevance to who and what he was.

When he had finished eating, he was forced to put that aside and exist again in the present where there were troubling thoughts and realities that must be dealt with.

He returned his eating utensils to the kitchen, and slowly began to walk back to his quarters. His and Obi-Wan's quarters. What was he to tell Obi-Wan? How could he know, when he himself did not understand?

Part Ten

Obi-Wan studied the familiar quarters he shared with his master with a deep relief at finally having come home. Home was not Coruscant, was not even the Jedi temple. It was this room that he had shared for nearly a decade with Qui-Gon.

Who would be returning shortly.

Obi-Wan took another look around the room to make sure everything was where it should be.

Spacious compared to the quarters he had come from, rooms assigned to masters were generally larger in order to give them the area needed for a padawan.

Those without padawans accordingly had more space than those with. Yet another sacrifice Master Qui-Gon had made for him.

In truth, Obi-Wan would have liked to do something for his master, to return even one of the multitude of favors Qui-Gon had done him over the years, and indeed, over the last day, but there was nothing to do. The rooms were as neat and tidy as though an army of housekeepers swept through it daily. His own belongings had taken only a little while to put away. They traveled with little, and Obi-Wan had not taken many of his things from his room when he had been assigned new quarters. This was indeed home, and anywhere else was simply a place he was staying as part of his duties with the Jedi.

He considered retreating to the small chamber that served as his sleeping room to meditate, but knew that he would have little peace until he had spoken again with his master. His doubts and his excitement were mixed together, and he could find no calmness with so much left unresolved.

Obi-Wan looked back into his master's own sleeping chamber. It was only a little larger than Obi-Wan's, austere as befitted a Jedi. The simple comforts had been attended to -- like Obi-Wan's, Qui-Gon's bed was comfortable, and very good for jumping on, as he remembered from his early days as an apprentice. Simple pleasures provided some of the greatest and overlooked joy in life. Sleep, food, breathing, all of these were basic needs that provided much contentment when satisfied.

He returned to the outer room, a sitting area suitable for meditation, teaching and small meetings, to await his master's return.

When the door opened, Obi-Wan came to his feet. "Master."

"Padawan," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "We must talk."

"Certainly, master. I am somewhat confused." As an admission, it was an understatement.

"I as well."

"Master?"

Qui-Gon gestured to the table, and Obi-Wan reseated himself. "I have spoken with Master Etil," he said, as he sat down. "She has given me much to think upon, but will not protest my change in our living arrangements."

*I can stay.* Relief blossomed inside his chest. "Thank you, master."

Qui-Gon regarded him with a steady, intent gaze. "It means so much to you then, to stay here?"

"It means so much to stay with *you*, master," Obi-Wan replied honestly.

"Ah." Qui-Gon considered for a long moment, then said, "Rest assured, Obi-Wan, you always have a place by my side. I will not push you away like that again. It was poorly judged of me. You are my apprentice, and my responsibility."

Obi-Wan tried to let that pass over him calmly. His place was because of his apprentice status. Even if it hurt to hear that he was a duty, nothing more. He would deal with that.

"There are four standard ways a master may deal with a padawan's feelings, if those feelings should become so serious as to make it necessary." Qui-Gon's quiet voice did not falter, and he continued to look at Obi-Wan, holding him in his gaze. "They divide into two major paths -- acknowledgement of the emotion, and refusal of it. I attempted to refuse your feelings."

*Yes, I know that. I know why, too.* "Yes, master."

Qui-Gon's expression sharpened. "I was wrong to do so."

"Master?"

"Refusal of the emotion is something that is done when it is impossible for the emotion to be accepted. When there is no true bond between master and apprentice, or when the master sees that any acknowledgement of the emotion will lead to disaster. When a master goes further than refusal of the emotion and sends an apprentice permanently away at this point, it is a refusal of the apprentice. Rarely done, it indicates that there is something deeply wrong revealed by the apprentice's emotion, or that serious harm will arise to either the master or apprentice if the feelings were acknowledged. Not may, but will."

It hurt to even think it, but Obi-Wan had to ask. "Is that why I was sent away? Because harm will come because of my feelings? I do not want you to accept harm in order to spare me pain--"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, padawan. It was not that. I... was in error. I had not realized the full implications of my actions. I believe a different path is indicated."

A different path? Could it be? Would Qui-Gon return his feelings? Hope soared daringly within him.

"When master and apprentice share a strong bond, the customary route to choose is acknowledgement of the padawan's change in feeling. To draw that additional feeling inside the bond and share it. That is what I should have done, and what I wish to do now, if you are willing to try again despite my earlier failure."

There were so many things he could have said, but they all meant the same thing, and so he said the two words that signified it all for him. "Yes, master."

"I do not return your feelings, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gravely. "That helped to mislead me in my earlier choice. And that may not change. But I will acknowledge and accept your feelings. They will be part of our bond, and I would be honored to share them with you and to aid you with them."

"How can my feelings be a part of our bond if you don't share them, master?" It wasn't what he'd wanted, and he didn't completely understand, but on the whole, it sounded good. Obi-Wan felt renewed trust in Qui-Gon, and something not-quite respect for his master's choice. Something more like love.

"If your feelings are part of our bond, I *will* share them. I do not wish to return them."

By now, Obi-Wan had been through enough that habits of silence mattered little. He could not bear it if Qui-Gon closed down on him again, but he needed to know. It was the return of the emotion that he needed most desperately. "Why not? What's wrong with me?"

Qui-Gon sighed heavily, but remained *there*, his eyes with Obi-Wan, and his presence in the Force not closed off. "There is no fault in you, Obi-Wan. It is a matter of..." He paused, then continued, voice rough. "Feeling. Feelings I thought I need not look at, which I had not dealt with. You... you are not my first apprentice, Obi-Wan. I made a terrible mistake before, and now... now we both have reaped the harvest of that inaction. The wisest thing to do now would be for me to spend time in meditation to order my own feelings. I cannot deal well with you until I have mastered my own emotions."

"Yes, master," Obi-Wan said, holding the resignation back from his voice. He was to be pushed away yet again, but he could not question Qui-Gon's decision. Everything his master said was true and logical. That was the way things should be. And he should be content that in the knowledge that his master had proved and promised that he would be there for Obi-Wan. Right?

"But I cannot do that.."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "But master..."

"You would suffer if I were to desert you again even more than you will suffer at the hands of my unleashed emotions. I do not see a perfect path through this entanglement. We shall have to muddle along the best we can." A slight smile touched Qui-Gon's lips.

Obi-Wan smiled back at the humor, then quickly sobered. "So what do we do, master? I... I would like to resolve things. In some way."

Qui-Gon nodded his understanding. He sat back in his chair. "Open your mind to me, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan copied his master's posture, and closed his eyes, dropping his barriers. He felt Qui-Gon there, a reassuring bulwark at the edge of his thoughts. When his master received that recognition, he moved further into Obi-Wan's mind, until their thoughts moved easily between each other.

#Send me your feelings, padawan.#

_Yes master._

Obi-Wan centered himself, before allowing first a trickle of emotion, then more to come forth from the place inside where he had been trying to cage them. He shared first the deep enduring bond that had formed early between them and left Obi-Wan always attuned with his master, that allowed their light telepathic connection to exist, that gave them the ability to function as almost one person. Not quite one person. Not entirely. But a sense of the other so profound that emotions, actions and thoughts could be nearly transparent.

The deep love flowed between them, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon accepting it, acknowledging it, and returning it to him threefold. That gave Obi-Wan the strength to move on, to pry open the dam behind which his other emotions were penned. More began to push out, the power of the stream working free other passages, until the entire blockage seemed to wash away in the intensity of suddenly allowed emotion.

Obi-Wan felt the emotions as they passed through the link. His initial realization, and the tender, frightened beginnings of a different kind of love for Qui-Gon. Wanting to touch him, to offer something more than the plain comfort of a padawan to his master's pain. Wanting to receive -- and give -- something other than the pale affirmations that stayed within the 'proper' bounds of their relationship. It wasn't precisely sexual -- more the desire to offer himself on every level to his master and be accepted on every one of them. To fully know and to be fully known.

To be limited to the bounds of a platonic relationship felt to be a crippling injury, with so much that could not be openly spoken, so much that had to be held back. Telling Qui-Gon that he loved him had only exacerbated the matter, for Qui-Gon had pulled away, giving Obi-Wan less of the contact he craved. Obi-Wan felt that and sent it to his master too. The need to give all, to be able to touch in any way, to be allowed the freedom of his master's mind and body. For without it, he could sense his master's occasional difficulties, *knew* when a silence meant something more should be offered -- but was forever across a gap that he could not breach, could not fill in with himself, no matter how much he wanted to.

Obi-Wan hesitated, holding the rest of it back as best he could, waiting to know Qui-Gon's response.

His master touched the edges of his mind delicately, in the mental version of a restrained caress, much like a finger stroking across his cheek. #I did not know how profoundly you felt. I thought...#

Images came through their link, of sexuality and the feeling carried along with them that such things were superficial and not a goal worth reaching for on their own. An almost trivial matter, and not something to risk shattering a relationship for.

_It isn't like that,_ Obi-Wan thought fiercely.

A soothing mental hand stroked his bristling thoughts. #I know now.#

And then Qui-Gon reciprocated, reflecting more of his own response. Obi-Wan felt his master's distress and now, acceptance, of what had seemed like a sudden rise in sexual desire in his apprentice. The recognition of Obi-Wan's need for a different kind of connection with him. Obi-Wan received it as a wash of conflicting emotion -- first the pulling back reaction, then the feeling of rejection, of never being willing to so risk his heart again...

Obi-Wan looked up, opening his eyes and staring at his master's partially closed lids.

Qui-Gon read his surprise, and felt the shock of reaction through their link. "Is it such a surprise that I have given my heart before?"

"No, master, but..." Obi-Wan struggled for words for something that had come at him as a inchoate mass of feeling. "You seem... to feel guilty because you loved."

Awkward as that statement was, Qui-Gon just accepted it, nodding. "That is true."

Obi-Wan burned to ask why, but words alone did not give him the answers he sought. The emotions playing through their link were more clear, and he closed his eyes again.

After a moment, he felt Qui-Gon's tentative probe, and grabbed onto it, letting support flow down their link, and daringly, more of the love and concern he felt -- the willingness and desire to do something, anything to help heal the fissure within Qui-Gon, to stroke his hair, to touch him and so communicate more closely. To share his pain, and by sharing, halve it.

#No, Obi-Wan. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. You... I have withheld much from you.#

Obi-Wan consciously relaxed his shielding, making sure it was as down as he could get it to go, as open as he could be to his master. He cared, and he was there to hear if his master would trust him enough to tell him.

A greater force enfolded him, and he was wrapped inside Qui-Gon's shields, which Obi-Wan could not relax. #Your heart is good, Obi-Wan.#

Obi-Wan easily read Qui-Gon's hesitation. _But?_

#I need to understand my own feelings before I can share them with you.# Qui-Gon communicated his seriousness, and his absolute integrity while at the same time, holding close to the spark of Obi-Wan that was more truly him than the shelter of self called his body. #Tell me of your emotions. I will listen to you. I will be here for you.#

It was a closer embrace than arms could give, and Obi-Wan pushed aside for the moment the troubling question of his master's own feelings. Slowly, he began again, letting out each emotion in turn, sharing each with Qui-Gon, and reveling quietly in the acceptance he found for them.

Part Eleven

The exchange of emotions went more smoothly than Qui-Gon had expected. Obi-Wan had not pressed him on areas too difficult for him to answer, and Qui-Gon had gained an unexpected understanding of his apprentice's feelings.

Unexpected, because he had not realized how truly Obi-Wan's feelings ran.

Again, he felt gratitude to Master Etil for causing him to realize how poorly he had read Obi-Wan. If he had known, he would have made his initial decision differently.

To be honest with himself, however, if he had been willing to see Obi-Wan's emotions, then he would have known. His own hesitance to face the past had led him to avoid the deeper contact that would have told him what his apprentice was feeling. And had nearly cost him that apprentice.

But he knew better now, and he felt a certain sense of awe in how much Obi-Wan was willing to trust him, how much his apprentice had allowed him to see. Qui-Gon had lost the innocence of that kind of trust a long time before.

And now, while his padawan polished his martial skills with Master Jar-es Bith, Qui-Gon knelt in meditation, deciding whether he needed to seek out further help, and from who.

He had first meditated to bring Obi-Wan's emotions fully within him, and accept them as completely as he was capable of -- and trying, or rather, failing, to reconcile those emotions with his own memories.

Obi-Wan felt about him in some of the same ways that Xanatos had. There were differences, but many more similarities which he could see. But he did not know whether it was the remembrance of his betrayal and pain that made Obi-Wan's emotions resemble Xanatos' own infatuation, that made Obi-Wan's devotion look like the same kind of foolish, misguided devotion Qui-Gon had felt for Xanatos. It could be that reflections of the past were coloring the present. It could also be that he was being tested by the Force, presented again with the problem he had stumbled over before, and being challenged this time to learn from the lessons he had been given, and make the right choice.

Except he had already stepped upon the path that led away from wisdom, had placed Obi-Wan's well-being and feelings above his own vague presentiments -- or recollections -- that doom lurked on this new path.

So many things could be true, and Qui-Gon did not know how to separate the real from the shadows.

He had embroiled himself in a problem which could tear him apart, and at the very least, would force him to face the weakness left inside by Xanatos' turning to the dark side.

Qui-Gon needed counsel, needed another to sift his feelings.

He could not open himself to Obi-Wan until he had done so.

His emotions, confused as they were, could harm Obi-Wan, particularly given his padawan's current fragile emotional state. Obi-Wan seemed better this morning than he had the evening before, but the apprentice had gone through too many rapid emotional changes. Obi-Wan needed time to deal with his feelings.

As did he.

Qui-Gon pondered whether he should go to Mace Windu with this issue. He dealt easily with the other master, despite some disagreements on council policy. Their communication styles were similar, and they shared a commonality of experience. Windu would be able to relate to his problem, and would listen with an open mind.

But it would be much like using a mirror to divine his feelings. One could learn from a mirror -- sometimes, the most obvious things went unnoticed by a person, and knowing what one projected was a strength.

What he needed, though, was a lightsaber. A tool to illuminate the darkness, and burn clean the parts of him that he had allowed to fester.

And when it came to lightsabers, the person he thought of first was Master Etil.

"You want me to do what?"

Qui-Gon wondered why he had expected Etil's initial response to be favorable. "I need help in dealing with an experience from my past that I believe is affecting my ability to deal appropriately with my apprentice."

"That's what I thought you said." Etil looked hard at him. "So you want to open up now. And you don't know how. Is that it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head.

"Sure you do. Even if you think you don't." She settled back into the couch. "Something happened to you, and it's keeping you from getting close to anyone. You haven't dealt with it, or failed to deal with it, and now you want to."

"That's right."

"What was it? Something went wrong between you and your master when you were a padawan? Or," her gaze sharpened, "did something go wrong with you and a previous padawan of yours?"

He nodded. "You could say that."

"What exactly? You know, this works better if you tell me what's going on in your head. I can't guess everything."

"But you do so well at it," Qui-Gon murmured.

She laughed, but her tone remained hard when she spoke. "Tell me."

He folded his hands into his sleeves, folding his composure around himself with the same gesture. "My second padawan turned to the Dark Side."

"And?" she prompted.

Of course she knew that there was more to the story than that. "And I thought myself to be in love with him."

"Hmm," she said. When Qui-Gon didn't offer another comment, she went on. "Did you tell him?"

"I didn't need to. He knew."

"But did you tell him? In words?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I thought it would be best to wait until he passed his knighthood trials. They were so close when I realized how I felt -- there was no need to interfere with the last of his training."

"No need. Of course not." She didn't elaborate further. "Did he pass the trials?"

"He did not take the trials. He... the council had a final test for him. He failed." Qui-Gon paused, eyes dark with remembered anguish.

"And he went over to the Dark Side," Etil completed for him. "He wasn't meant to be a Jedi. Probably shouldn't have even trained as one, if the council at the time was that unsure of him."

"I thought he would be the perfect knight."

"Well, you were wrong. That happens. You live with it, and you move on."

"I did."

"Obviously not very well. So, you loved this apprentice of yours, and when he failed, you started doubting yourself, couldn't deal with it, and decided just to not love anybody ever again, especially a padawan of yours. Do I have that right?"

"It's not that simple..."

"Okay," Etil said reasonably. "Then explain it to me."

He smiled ruefully, recognizing that she had trapped him neatly. Even though he had come to her with the intention of unburdening himself, it was still difficult to speak of things so long kept locked away. "It was that I didn't see the flaw in him. I overlooked his pride, and failed to notice that it had spoiled in him until that pride was more important to him than anything."

"Even you."

He felt a little stunned. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Part of you did. Had to. Somewhere you got the message that you couldn't make good decisions based on your emotions. I'm betting that this is where."

"I think that came from Jedi training."

"No. I don't think so. Using your feelings, and letting the Force guide you is an important part of being Jedi. Sure, you can be emotionless and logical -- certainly, control is a valuable thing. But you have to listen to your feelings, assuming you have any. And you have them."

He raised his eyebrows at her comment, but continued with his story. "I did not expect Obi-Wan." A slight smile. "Obi-Wan was unexpected in more than one way. He... I have trouble deciding what I feel about him. There is nothing that isn't proper for our relationship as master and padawan, but still... still, I think that you were right and I was pushing him away because something in me was denying closeness. I have spoken with Obi-Wan -- he revealed his feelings to me, and I have acknowledged them as part of our bond. But I can't reciprocate."

"You don't return his feelings. I got that part."

"No -- it's not that. Not precisely. It's... I want to be as open with him as he was with me. To show him my side of the bond. And I can't. There's... confusion where there should be clarity."

"Why don't you show him that, if that's what you feel?"

"In Obi-Wan's current state of mind, I don't think that would be wise."

She shrugged. "Your decision. But part of what a bond's about is give-and-take."

"I see." Qui-Gon retreated into formality.

"I doubt it. Get over your past. It happened, it's done with. You can't redo it. All you can do is live with it. Stop letting one bad decision tell you how and who you can love. If you love the boy, then open up to him. If you don't, open up anyway. You're too closed off to be healthy."

He nodded. "Thank you for your advice."

"Whatever. Take it -- that's what matters, not thanking me. You think too much."

Feeling battered around the edges, Qui-Gon stood, then left Etil's quarters. He walked slowly back to his own, wondering about what Etil had said. Was she right? Was the problem as simple as she seemed to think it was?

He doubted it. If the problem were that simple, he would have solved it before this. He would not have needed to speak with her.

But he would nonetheless consider her words. He had sought her help, and he would not dismiss it without examining first what he had been given.

Even if it did seem to be worthless.

Part Twelve

Obi-Wan returned from his practice session in good humor. Master Bith had tested the limits of his training, and pressed them further. Today, the Jedi master had been content to push only Obi-Wan's physical limits, and it had been a delight to show what he knew, and express his joy through the movements of his body.

He had his own master back, and that was what mattered.

Eventually, he would complete his training, become a knight, and lose his master to the rhythms of change, but that seemed far-off and unimportant compared to the relief it was to have that link again in his head, to know that he could call on Qui-Gon if needed, and to know that his place by Qui-Gon's side was secure.

He would think later about what having a place meant to him, and how that could be a weakness. But not now. For today, he savored the fullness of his happiness at finding his way home.

He showered before returning to their shared quarters, making himself ready for whatever his master might have waiting for him. Tests, trials, meditation, exercises -- Obi-Wan was confident in his abilities, and in the lack of pain should he fail. A failure would be a mistake to learn from so that he might become more perfect. A lesson, nothing more.

Obi-Wan walked in, head high, and found Qui-Gon on the floor, kneeling in meditation. This was in no way unusual, and Obi-Wan joined him.

He did not speak to his master, nor did he attempt to find a suitable subject to meditate on. At the moment, nothing at all seemed the best topic, and Obi-Wan let his mind go free, secure and confident in the housing of his soul.

Qui-Gon turned his personal dilemma over in his mind again. He was aware of Obi-Wan's arrival, but chose not to allow it to affect him.

No, he was concentrating on something important, yet hard to understand.

What did he feel?

The same question he had meditated over yesterday, it had become no clearer with the passage of time. Only this time, he knew that it was Xanatos who barred his way.

Qui-Gon brought those remembered feelings back into his consciousness. He'd loved Xanatos thoroughly, had been proud in his apprentice and certain that Xanatos was ready to become a knight. He had seen no flaws, and while he had noticed his apprentice's delight in his own superiority, Qui-Gon had thought little of it. Xanatos had been good, and rejoicing in that ability had not seemed to be a flaw.

He knew better now, had guarded Obi-Wan against that selfsame flaw, and took an equal pleasure in Obi-Wan's complete lack of self-aggrandizement.

The last mission posed by the council had brought Xanatos' natural self to the fore, and Qui-Gon's former apprentice had grabbed for the power and glory that would have been his birthright, had he not been given to the Jedi.

He had gone, and Qui-Gon had known himself to be a fool.

His love had been misplaced, and it had hurt all the worse that their bond had been torn apart, edges mentally bleeding with the force of its sundering. It had taken Qui-Gon much meditation to resolve that torn spot in his mind, to return himself to normal.

And even after he had returned to normal, he had found that he could not take on another apprentice. He might not be the only Jedi who had ever lost an apprentice to the Dark Side, but Xanatos had been his padawan, and Qui-Gon the only one who had lost him so gravely. The raw place where the bond had been healed slowly, but it healed. Even mental wounds closed over in time.

But that was the last time he had reached out to another, the last personal risk he had taken. Even Obi-Wan... the boy had fought his way into Qui-Gon's heart, despite any will of Qui-Gon's own. And he had taken on the boy, because there was nothing else he could do but recognize the place where a new bond had sprouted.

*A new bond... and a new love?*

Qui-Gon clamped down on that thought hard. Instinctively. Without knowing quite why he'd done it. The very severity of his automatic response told him that the thought was important, and hesitantly, he opened himself back up to it, and allowed himself to think about it. The possibility of his loving Obi-Wan...

Yes, he cared deeply for his apprentice. Obi-Wan was the closest person to his heart, and Qui-Gon doubted that he would ever find room for another padawan after him. It was miracle enough that Obi-Wan had managed to initially breach his defenses -- Qui-Gon did not see it happening again, not to him. That his association with Obi-Wan might have healed him enough to allow him take on another apprentice, Qui-Gon dismissed entirely. Unlikely. Very unlikely, although Obi-Wan was very good for his wounded psyche. Force willing, he would work with Obi-Wan again after he had become a knight.

And then...

Qui-Gon realized something in that chain of thought. He did not wish to leave Obi-Wan. It was inevitable, and yet, he wanted to keep Obi-Wan's presence with him. He'd grown to need his padawan's bright flame in the back of his mind, had grown to depend on their bond.

That bothered him. How was he to set an example for Obi-Wan if he could not properly separate from him when the time came?

That he could, instead, choose to simply be with Obi-Wan required something Qui-Gon did not have. An ability to return the powerful feelings which Obi-Wan had for him. Qui-Gon's soul was stunted, in a place he'd never thought to examine, had never thought might be a flaw.

And, yet, he realized now, it was.

A gaping flaw that locked all the wonder of the galaxy away from him.

All the wonder of Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon brought himself up out of the trance without visible effort, then stood, stretching his muscles.

Without prompting, Obi-Wan, too, returned from trance. He looked up at Qui-Gon. "Master?"

"Yes, padawan?"

Obi-Wan grinned at him, a happy, open expression so different than the closed-off tear-stricken expression of the day before. "Is it time for the dinner meal now?"

Qui-Gon chuckled despite himself. "I think so. You may as well go. I don't believe in starving my apprentice."

Still, Obi-Wan remained on the floor. "I would rather go with you, master."

Touched, Qui-Gon extended his hand to his kneeling padawan. "Then let us go together," he murmured.

Obi-Wan used his hand for hardly-needed balance. "Thank you, master."

They walked together through the halls, Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon's side and a bit behind. "How did your lesson go with Master Bith?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well, I think. I *am* weak in the nuances of fighting against someone I can sense but am not bonded to. His sense of me enabled him to find my weak points with great accuracy."

"Ah."

"I wish there was some way to lower my shields enough to read him while keeping them up at the same time so that he can't read me."

"To some extent, there is."

"How is that, Master?"

"You can read the patterns the Force makes as it moves around him. The Force is most responsive to its users, and will react based on intention and feeling. If you maintain an eye on the Force as well as your opponent, you can gain an idea of his positioning and tactics without needing to let your own shields down."

"Is that very accurate, master?" Obi-Wan asked doubtfully. He knew about watching the way the Force moved around a person, but did not think it a particularly clear source of data. "It doesn't seem that the information you'd get would be as complete."

"It isn't. But it is a way to read without needing to unshield."

"Are there any others, Master?"

"The best trick of all is to make your shields so much stronger that even while you are reading him, he cannot penetrate yours. I can't help you with that, though -- I believe only Yoda of the masters here now has the knowledge of how to use that against another expert in the Force."

"Would it work to mislead your opponent? To lay false impressions in the Force? Or to suppress one's feelings and thoughts so as to give no hint in the Force as to what one will do?"

Qui-Gon smiled at his apprentice. "Very good, Obi-Wan. Yes, it is possible. But such tactics are dangerous and difficult to learn. Self-deceptive, they require a mastery of thinking on many levels much beyond what you currently have achieved."

As Obi-Wan had not yet mastered the art of thinking of one thing while fighting, he could only agree. "What then is the best way, master?"

"That's something you'll need to work out for yourself. The answer differs."

"Ah. One of *those* problems."

"Yes, padawan," Qui-Gon said repressively, but with affection that was not hidden from their bond, "one of *those* problems."

They entered the dining hall together, in step.

Qui-Gon took in the gathered mass of Jedi with a look, then turned back to his apprentice. "If I have forgotten to mention it, you may wish to observe or even participate in the poetry contest that will be held tomorrow."

"What kind of poetry contest?" Contests in every form of Jedi skill were routine to the Temple, a way of honing oneself as well as a celebration of ability. More demonstration than competition, they were very popular, and events to be looked forward to. Obi-Wan generally knew when such things would be held and eagerly anticipated them, but there had been little to look forward to in the past few days, and before that, he had not known he would be on Coruscant at all.

"There is an open seat on the council. The departing member has requested that her replacement be chosen by a poem."

"That's... unusual."

"Not so unusual. Her seat is a rotating one. It would be more unusual were one of the permanent members of the council request that their replacement be chosen that way, but more because of the commitment involved than any unsuitability in the method."

"But, master, anyone could win. We could end up with an eleven-year-old on the Council."

Qui-Gon smiled. "If the Force wills it to happen that way, then no doubt we will have a great deal to learn from our hypothetical eleven-year-old. And, padawan, be grateful that the form of competition is not flower arranging."

His eyes twinkled, and Obi-Wan groaned. He had once made the mistake of napping in the Temple gardens, before he'd realized that there was a good reason why certain places were set aside for people and why everywhere else, however open-looking, should be treated with caution. He'd woken up inside a Force-grown jungle, and it had required Qui-Gon, the two juniors who had grown that patch of garden, and a lightsaber to disentangle him. But not before he'd been scratched bloody, bitten, and nearly dissolved in the acid used by one of the plants to digest its food.

He was never going to be allowed to forget that. Which, perhaps, was all for the best, because he certainly wasn't going to do *that* again.

"You may enter if you wish," Qui-Gon said. "The experience would be good for you."

"Will you enter, master?"

"No. I have no desire to be on the council. My work is elsewhere."

"If your work is elsewhere, master, then so is mine." ," Obi-Wan said, then realized that that statement could be taken as a rather prideful announcement that he thought he would win if he entered the contest. That his master would win, Obi-Wan never questioned. "Not that I expect anyone will notice my entry," he added. "I never can remember which underlying metaphor I'm supposed to be illustrating with my simple yet deep expression of a Jedi's knowledge of the Force."

That drew a smile from his master, as Obi-Wan had wished. "You will do fine, Obi-Wan."

*In your eyes, I will,* Obi-Wan thought. But in the end, wasn't that what really mattered?

Part Thirteen

"You may be interested to know that the theme for the poetry contest has also been announced," Qui-Gon remarked as he and Obi-Wan made their way through the crowded dining hall.

"And it is?"

"'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.'" Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, favoring him with a small smile. "You should have no problem with that theme, padawan. I assume you have not discontinued your meditation on the nature of wisdom."

Obi-Wan held in a groan. "I haven't found an answer yet."

Qui-Gon took a seat, and then, with a mischievous look, quoted again. "'Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.'"

"So I am to ask questions?" Obi-Wan said, as he took his own seat, putting his thoughts into words. His master did not reply -- Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan something to think about and would not influence that thinking unless Obi-Wan asked for assistance or came to an incorrect conclusion. And, even then, his master had been known to let him continue with an incorrect conclusion so as to let him experience the consequences of a poorly-thought-out decision firsthand.

At the last resort, Obi-Wan supposed, he could simply put down "What is a wise man?" and call that a poem, but Qui-Gon would know he had not thought about the issue, and would be disappointed in him. A disappointment he did not wish to court.

He thought instead about the principle selected for the contest. "Why choose that statement, master?" he asked. "There must be volumes of philosophy in the archives which interpret it."

"True." Qui-Gon ate neatly, appearing completely composed as he found an answer for his apprentice. "Part of the challenge is to find a way to reduce those volumes of philosophy to one poem."

"I suppose it could be a very long poem," Obi-Wan mused. It was usual for poetry contests to take place outside the dining hall. Aspiring poets used one long stretch of wall to inscribe their poems, which remained up until the next time the wall was washed. Theoretically, one could use a great deal of space on one's composition, provided that they were willing to start early enough, when wall space would still be available. With a Council seat at stake, Obi-Wan suspected that this would be a very popular contest.

He turned his attention away from walls and toward eating, having built up a strong appetite during his physical training. But still the question chased itself in his mind. *What is a wise man?*

Qui-Gon hid his smile carefully as he surreptitiously observed his apprentice. Already, Obi-Wan seemed to be recovered from his earlier ordeal. Thoroughly engrossed in the matter of the poetry competition, Obi-Wan did not seem stressed or uneasy. He had shaken off the ill effects of his separation from Qui-Gon.

*I only wish I could say the same about myself.* Realistically, Qui-Gon knew that, in all likelihood, the reason for his padawan's recovery was due to his own actions. Obi-Wan had found an outlet for his emotions. Had poured them out to Qui-Gon, and the emotions had taken their place in the bond he and Obi-Wan shared. That acceptance of emotion was a profound step in their relationship. It was what had calmed Obi-Wan, and indeed, now Qui-Gon felt little of the discomfort that had initially caused him to bring his apprentice back to Coruscant. And, adding to the young man's healing, Obi-Wan's secondary problem, his anguish over being separated, had also eased, almost as soon as he had returned to their quarters.

Qui-Gon could sense his padawan very well, and he knew how Obi-Wan felt about returning. Knew about the sense of joy that had imbued him today, and was glad for it.

Now if only he could find some of that peace himself.

He knew what was keeping him from being at rest. It was simple really. First, he needed to fully accept Obi-Wan's feelings -- and then, then he needed to take the next step and open his own to his padawan learner. Without that, the process they had begun this morning was not complete.

He needed to show Obi-Wan his feelings, whatever they were, even if Qui-Gon wasn't sure himself what his emotions were.

The openness might tear him apart, might rip a new hole in a soul only recently grown accustomed to not bleeding. But it was something that had to be faced, lest he be forced to send Obi-Wan away again, and lose the best influence in his life. To allow Obi-Wan to open himself, and not acknowledge that openness -- that would be careless cruelty.

No matter how difficult he found the task.

Yes, he decided. He would talk to Obi-Wan. The risks were worth the end result, and the consequences of not trying were too much to bear. He would share his emotions.

No matter how much it hurt.

After dinner, they returned to their shared quarters. When Obi-Wan would have disappeared into his own room, Qui-Gon stopped him with a hand on his padawan's shoulder. "I need to speak with you, Obi-Wan."

"Of course, master."

Qui-Gon sat -- he would definitely need to be sitting for this, he thought -- and regarded Obi-Wan steadily as the young man copied his actions. His heart was drumming in his ears, and he'd already been through two calming exercises on the walk back from the dining hall, attempting to still himself. "I have decided to open my mind to you."

Obi-Wan sensed his uncertainty, and learned forward. "I don't understand. Is there a problem, Master?" he asked with concern.

"Not... precisely," Qui-Gon answered. "I wish to finish what we began this morning, and share my own thoughts with you. It was a difficult decision for me to make, and something I must deal with however I can."

Obi-Wan's face did not lose any of its concern, but he nodded his obedience.

Qui-Gon set shields around the both of them, and then slowly laid bare the inner recesses of his mind. Even Obi-Wan saw little of this inner, always shielded, part of him. That he saw any of it was a measure of the trust Qui-Gon had in his padawan.

Obi-Wan reached out to him, and Qui-Gon allowed it.

Obi-Wan's probe was not clumsy, but rather smooth and practiced. His apprentice had fine control, the teacher part of his mind noted. The experience of having been in Qui-Gon's mind this morning would also have helped. The more they touched at this level, deeper than their everyday bond required, the more Obi-Wan would know his mind and be able to meld easily with him.

Concentrating, Qui-Gon began to summon up his troubled emotions, bringing them up to the surface for Obi-Wan to examine. He did not fully understand them himself, and was aware that there was a great deal of confusion still mixed in with his other feelings.

That he gave to Obi-Wan first, so that all else would be more easily understood, and then his reactions to Obi-Wan's revelations of the morning. Qui-Gon's feelings, his acceptance of his apprentice, and his disquiet at learning that Obi-Wan's new and disturbing feelings for him were more than a passing fancy.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan react to that disquiet, hurt despite how Qui-Gon had revealed it earlier this morning as well. But this time, instead of holding back, and refusing to go further, Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan look at his past experience with Xanatos as his apprentice, let him see how Qui-Gon had misjudged and eventually failed, how wrong and how foolish he had been.

And felt, to his great surprise, a fierce wave of love wrapping around him, coming from his padawan.

#What's wrong?# he asked, nonplussed.

_You blame yourself,_ Obi-Wan responded. _After all this time, you still blame yourself._

#It was no one else's fault,# he sent honestly, showing Obi-Wan how truly he meant that. It *was* his fault.

_No. Not your fault._ Obi-Wan's thoughts surrounded him protectively. _I am so sorry you were hurt._

Tears stung Qui-Gon's eyes, more from Obi-Wan's misplaced kindness rather than any sadness of his own. He opened them, willing Obi-Wan to make eye contact with him. "I was a fool to love. I paid for that mistake."

Speaking disrupted their bond enough to force Obi-Wan, less experienced in the ways of the Force, to speech himself. His eyes met Qui-Gon's defiantly. "But it wasn't your fault, master. He turned."

"And I never sensed it. Loved him despite the evidence that was obvious to the council. Obvious to everyone but me."

Obi-Wan came to him, kneeling next to his chair, resting his head again Qui-Gon's arm. His muffled voice came up from that position, "Is it so wrong then to love, master?"

Qui-Gon's hand came up and he found himself stroking his padawan's hair. He didn't know what to tell Obi-Wan. It had been a mistake for him to love Xanatos, to not see him for what he truly was. And yet, the kind of caring and affection he held for Obi-Wan, or thought he held, was not wrong, was instead perhaps the rightest thing in his life. His confusion welled up again, and he sighed. "I do not know."

Obi-Wan nodded, the movement sliding more of Obi-Wan's spiky hair against the palm of Qui-Gon's hand. "You... this is why you wanted to send me away, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "Because it hurts too much for you to let someone in again. He hurt you too much. Losing him hurt you too much. Trying to reach out to me -- my feelings for you -- they're making you hurt all over again, but you're trying to bear it anyway for my sake." Obi-Wan shifted his head to kiss Qui-Gon's hand, and Qui-Gon felt the wetness of tears brushing against his skin. "You can't hurt yourself for me. I'm not worth that."

He sat back on his heels, staring very seriously at his master. "I... I've been selfish. I knew it when I came back here -- you made the right decision the first time, but you sacrificed yourself to keep me from pain. And now you're hurting worse than before. And it's all because of me."

"No, Obi-Wan--"

Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "I understand now. I do. Thank you for showing me." He brought his shields up around himself, locking himself away from Qui-Gon as fully as he could. "I... I know what I should do now. Don't worry about me. Please, master. I... can't bear knowing that you're hurting because of me."

With that, he stood, and Qui-Gon realized that Obi-Wan was leaving him. Leaving. Him.

Pain shot through him, an angry pain that hurt more than any blow could possibly hurt. "Padawan..."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No." He swallowed a sob. "I will speak to the council about finding me another master. Master Etil will probably help me."

Qui-Gon very much doubted that. The woman had caused more trouble... Eyes burning with his own tears, Qui-Gon stood and crossed the small space that separated him from Obi-Wan, his Obi-Wan, and reached out, grasping his arms. "No, my padawan. Do not go. I want you to remain."

"How can I when my very presence hurts you more?" Obi-Wan's words were a frustrated wail.

"Because it does not." Using his hold on Obi-Wan to strengthen their bond, Qui-Gon opened his mind again, this time holding nothing back. He showed Obi-Wan his confusion again, and his pain, and then the realization he'd only come to today, that Obi-Wan was the only balm his wounded psyche had been willing to accept, that Obi-Wan's trust in him, his love for him, was what had healed him, was healing him.

Obi-Wan sagged against him, concentrating on the mental contact. _Oh. Master, I never knew._

#Neither did I,"# Qui-Gon commented ruefully. He guided Obi-Wan to the couch, then sat down next to him. When he had shown Obi-Wan all that was within him, he rested, then spoke aloud, voice gentle. "I don't understand my own feelings, but I am absolutely certain that I want you in my life. I want to accept your emotions in our bond, and would that you accept mine as well, as scanty and haphazard as they are. I cannot promise you more than this -- a knowledge of my own confusion, but I would share it with you nonetheless."

The sun had broken out, and it was Obi-Wan's face. "Thank you, master. Just... thank you."

Qui-Gon took him in his arms, a physical reassurance that Obi-Wan was still there, and simply held him, as they allowed their emotions to move between them, and settle into a new configuration.

Part Fourteen

Obi-Wan could have fallen asleep on the couch, cradled in his master's embrace. He very much would have liked to. He always felt safe when Qui-Gon was holding him, never mind that most of the times Qui-Gon did so, they were in perilous circumstances, and he was usually badly injured. He still felt safe and comforted there, tonight even more so.

But even that embrace had to end. Obi-Wan still had the memory of that moment, though, to hold and cherish within him.

He could feel the difference in their bond now that they had opened their emotions to each other. Stronger than before, he could feel more of Qui-Gon's emotions, could sense them more easily without Qui-Gon having to consciously will that contact, or be broadcasting his feelings.

And he knew it was the same for his master, because even after he had reluctantly allowed himself to be urged up from the couch and toward his sleeping chamber, he had felt a stab of pain at the loss of contact -- and it had been soothed instantly by Qui-Gon. Instinctively, not like before.

He was accepted fully, and if this was not quite the same as being allowed the full freedom of his love, then it was being allowed to see, being allowed to know that there was a need for comfort and to answer it as best he could given his limited ability to respond in their current relationship. The lines were still rigid around what he could and could not do, but he was allowed to know and that was enough.

For now.

For now he would content himself in working out his entry in the poetry contest. He had until the dinner hour tomorrow to post it, but many people would have spent days or weeks on their poems, and would put them up at first light. And, in any case, now alone in his own room, he couldn't sleep. He'd tried, but there was a hollowness inside him that would not allow for slumber, that kept feeling for the memory of being held by his master, turning it over and over in his mind.

Obi-Wan felt along their bond again, and tasted the reassuring feel of his master sleeping. That comforted him, and he was able to look down again at the words he was composing. He supposed it would be purer to work the poem out in his mind as a mental exercise, but he was having enough difficulty writing it as it was.

Poetry was definitely not his forte.

All he had now were jumbled words and not-quite phrases.

Wisdom is something I wish I'd never heard of  
wise men - not Jedi, but still wise, and what  
is wisdom anyway?,br> There is no ignorance; there is knowledge  
wisdom = knowledge

And that was about it. Perhaps he could just describe Master Qui-Gon -- leaving names out of it, of course -- and let that serve. His master *was* his best current definition of wisdom. Look how ably he had handled Obi-Wan's crisis of feeling! He'd solved in days what had felt like a lifetime's worth of pain crashing down. Etil had made it seem like his problems would take years to work out.

But a description of Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't enough. Obi-Wan knew the proverb had more meaning to it than the example of one man -- the set that that proverb was part of was one of the most-discussed subjects in training, at least, at the pre-apprentice level. Qui-Gon was more fond of asking questions he had made up himself, which could be based in the intensely practical, in riddles, or sometimes things his master himself did not know the answer to. Obi-Wan found that kind of question more challenging than the age-worn proverbs.

Of course, he did seem to be struggling with one of those trite old proverbs right now.

Obi-Wan pulled his braid forward, winding it around his index finger as he thought.

He remembered what he'd been taught about the saying, but couldn't bring himself to use answers that were merely recitations of what others believed to be true. No, he needed the answer that was personally true for himself, whatever it was. Needed his own interpretation of something he had thought of so often that it had almost lost its meaning for him.

'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.'

There was a great deal of ignorance in the galaxy. Even for those with knowledge. Master Yoda was very wise, and very knowledgeable, but even he didn't know everything. Even he had places where he was ignorant.

But there was no ignorance. Obi-Wan knew that to be truth. It had to be true. So what did it *mean*?

He started chewing on the end of his braid, savoring the crunchy feeling as the mass of strands slipped through his teeth.

Was it a statement of how things should be? The goal that all Jedi strove for? That made sense, but yet, Obi-Wan felt that the proverb was simply true. It was not something that had to be made true, it *was* true. He knew it. Deep inside. He just couldn't figure out *why*.

Passion, ignorance, death and emotion versus serenity, knowledge, the Force and peace. The reality of life versus life the way it was for the Jedi. A higher kind of life, even if Obi-Wan was still an apprentice and struggling to live it so. The way, he supposed, it could be for everyone if they possessed enough Force to acknowledge it. The Force came from within. It was in everyone and everything. Everyone had the potential to live with the Force, whether they could sense it or not. A person trying to live in tune with the Force without being able to sense it, though, would be like a blinded man attempting to fight a lightsaber duel. It could be done, and done without the guidance the Force provided, but it would be difficult indeed to master.

A person who had done that would be truly wise, much wiser than the Jedi, who had the sense of the Force to guide them.

Serenity, knowledge and peace. Those were the truths of life, whatever masks they might wear. The Force bound it all together.

Obi-Wan let go of his braid, and settled down to write.

Qui-Gon rose at his usual time, refreshed himself, then sat down for his morning meditation. When he came out of meditation, he was mildly surprised that Obi-Wan had not joined him. Had his padawan overslept?

He checked Obi-Wan's room, and did not see him there. The bed was neatly made, no clue there as to whether his apprentice had never slept in it or had slept in it, then tidied it before leaving on whatever errand had taken him away.

He was about to let down the wall he had drawn up last night after his inadvertent response to Obi-Wan's pain, when the door opened. He had soothed that pain without thinking -- the decision to do so had not been made by his conscious mind, had indeed been a response of their newly deepened bond.

Qui-Gon was not yet ready to deal with being that open. More meditation was needed. More experience. He and his padawan could go slowly on this issue now that the exchange of emotions had taken place, Qui-Gon was sure. Slowly, that was the key.

Obi-Wan came in now, took in the scene, and apologized instantly. "I'm sorry, master. I rose early to put up my poem, but there were more people there than I had expected, and I had to wait."

Qui-Gon smiled, pleased that Obi-Wan *had* entered the contest. "It's of no matter, padawan. Shall we go now to view the entries, or have you had your fill of poetry for the moment?"

Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "What I'd like back is the lost sleep, but I would settle for breakfast, master."

"Ah. Just as well. It would be best to survey the entries later in the day, when more people have had a chance to put up their poems."

Obi-Wan smiled again, and Qui-Gon knew then that his apprentice was not at all eager to have his offering compared to the others on the wall. A few days ago, he would have tagged it as humility. Remembering Master Etil's words, he wondered now if it was insecurity. He felt Obi-Wan's emotions, not needing to reach out for them. Had his shields become that weak through mere proximity to his padawan?

But the emotions were there, and Qui-Gon examined them. Yes. Roiling insecurity. An image of the table Obi-Wan had been bent over while working on his poem, and a feeling of futility. The need to make Qui-Gon proud of him.

Qui-Gon reached out both in mind and in body, doing so deliberately, and clasped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I am pleased you decided to enter the contest, my padawan. I look forward to reading your entry."

That sent another ripple of unease through Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon frowned. He was open to Obi-Wan's emotions now, and presumably Obi-Wan could feel him equally well. Therefore, Obi-Wan had to know that his master had meant the comment sincerely. #Is there something wrong?#

A hesitation, then, _It was no great effort._

#No matter what you have entered, I am sure it reflects your heart and mind. You would not do anything carelessly, and I am eager to see this glimpse into how you view the nature of wisdom and knowledge.#

Obi-Wan looked down, then spoke aloud. "I wrote something. I... read a few of the other poems as I was waiting. They were all very, very good. What I wrote... doesn't compare. I don't have any great insights to offer. Just the way I see things." He laughed without humor. "And it's not like I can put things all that well anyway."

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, catching Obi-Wan's attention with that title, and waiting until Obi-Wan's eyes rose to meet his. "It *is* your perspective that is valuable. Why do you think life exists in such variety? All of our perspectives are valuable, a little more insight added to the overall fabric."

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked into a smile. "That makes me the dangling thread, then. Perhaps I should get that fixed."

"After breakfast, perhaps," Qui-Gon said compassionately, not quite sure what to say or do. This new awareness of Obi-Wan's feelings was disconcerting. He either had to develop better shielding, or learn quickly how to deal with those feelings.

And it felt somehow wrong to block off this knowledge, go back to seeing Obi-Wan as he had through the pale filter of their original bond. Even if this new knowledge made it seem almost as he was dealing with a new apprentice, another, heretofore hidden, side of the padawan he had been training these several years.

Part Fifteen

"Master, why are you blocking me out?" Obi-Wan blurted.

It was a presumptuous question, but he could feel his master so much more thoroughly now, and he knew it was happening. After yesterday, he didn't understand why. And he was going to ask. No matter what the answer might be, because the nagging ache inside him would allow no other action.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows in a quizzical sort of way, almost as though he didn't know what Obi-Wan was speaking of. Or perhaps, as if he didn't know why Obi-Wan was speaking of it in one of the corridors of the Jedi temple, where private conversation was a luxury.

But Qui-Gon did not reprimand him. Did instead answer him. "You are right, my apprentice. I have been. Or trying to, at any rate." The corners of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. "Our new closeness is something I need time to get used to. My response last night to your emotions was... unsettling."

That was one thing about Qui-Gon. When he gave answers, he was honest and open. Obi-Wan didn't know if he could handle so much truth. "You.. do not regret the bond?" he asked cautiously.

A hand clasped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "No, padawan. I have no regrets. It was the best thing to do. I'm simply having difficulty adjusting to it."

Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled. He was not having any trouble. Even the touch of his master's hand made him feel much better, chasing away the aloneness and unhappiness he had felt ever since being closed out last night. But then, he'd loved his master for some time now, had become accustomed to picking up as Qui-Gon's thoughts and emotions as best he could, whether he caught them from unshielded moments or from body language or other sources. On the other hand, his master knew him well, better than anyone else. Obi-Wan was aware that Qui-Gon could read his feelings from a long distance away. "How is this bond different?" he asked.

"In some ways, it is not," Qui-Gon replied. "But now I can feel all of your emotions will-you-nil-you, and when we are in close proximity, not even shielding seems to block it effectively. *That* is quite different."

"Oh. I apologize, master. I will do my best to work on my shielding."

"If I have seemed distant," Qui-Gon continued, "it is because I am trying to be distant, to retain some space between us until I can become adjusted to this new closeness, not because I am rejecting you. A similar thing happened when you first became bonded to me, if you remember."

Obi-Wan didn't remember, although he supposed that the way Qui-Gon had so assiduously tried to push him away when they initially met might be something like this. That assumed that the original bond between them had formed before Qui-Gon had actually accepted him, before that moment in the mines when Qui-Gon had called him 'padawan' for the first time. If so, then it made sense. "I think so."

His master nodded. "It will resolve in time." He smiled at Obi-Wan, a fond smile that made Obi-Wan's heart quicken. "And we certainly have time."

"Excuse me, master? I don't understand."

"I requested that the Council allow us some weeks to resolve your emotional situation. This is not quite the resolution I anticipated, but we still have the time to use. I think a period of adjustment on Coruscant will do us both good."

"Vacation, you mean," Obi-Wan replied, smiling.

"That as well."

They passed through the hall where the poetry was being posted. Obi-Wan was awed by the number of poems already posted, and not sure why he'd bothered to post his at all. This was deeper thought than he was capable of.

But his master did not look at the wall, merely skirted the busy industry in the hallway, and continued on to breakfast.

Obi-Wan hurried to keep up, wishing he had as much composure.

For all that the words he'd told his padawan were true, Qui-Gon's heart felt as heavy as though he'd lied. He felt something he would rather not have felt, something that simply did not make sense for a Jedi master to feel. Depression. An emptiness he did not understand.

He'd had to stop himself from reaching out for Obi-Wan. His apprentice had enough to deal with without his master making additional demands and, in any case, Qui-Gon didn't know how doing so could help him.

Meditation, he decided. That was what he needed -- more meditation.

Although he wasn't certain how that combined with a morning of training Obi-Wan.

After his work in composing his poem, Obi-Wan needed something other than more concentrated thought. Needed a hint of celebration, or of something more taxing physically than mentally. Of course, his apprentice did already have such a training session scheduled with Master Bith in the afternoon, which Qui-Gon was loath to interfere with. Obi-Wan's account of his past training session with the other master had confirmed Qui-Gon's impression that Obi-Wan was learning from the experience. He did not want to interrupt that learning.

But still... what was he to do with the morning?

Confess all and hope his padawan had the answer? Qui-Gon smiled a little at that thought. That wouldn't be appropriate, but perhaps, it was not entirely wrong. Obi-Wan could feel his unease, and especially now that their bond had deepened, it would be best to at least explain what was going on to his padawan. He would do so after the morning meal.

They ate in a companionable silence that was thwarted by the noisy speculation of those around them on the probable outcome of the poetry contest.

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan becoming more uncomfortable by the moment, and wondered what to say. It wasn't as though Obi-Wan needed to be consoled over not winning... Qui-Gon knew that his padawan had no intention of winning. It was something else, something he couldn't quite pick out...

"So, you've finally done it. And messed it up, I see."

Etil. Qui-Gon wondered now why he'd thought of eating at all. In a mild voice, he said, "Are you commenting on the poetry contest?"

She sat down next to Obi-Wan, where she could stare at Qui-Gon. "Hmph. Poetry. It's a waste of time. It's how you live a principle that matters, not how prettily you can put it into words."

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable, and Qui-on felt a surge of protectiveness. How could Etil be so insensitive? Couldn't she see...

And then he realized. Obi-Wan's expression remained as polite and calm as before. It was his inward emotions that Qui-Gon was reacting to. *And I can't even tell that that's what they are.* He chided himself. He knew better. He'd trained to be better than this. How could a full master be so flummoxed by handling emotion? Perhaps, some part of his mind observed dryly, it was because he had done his best to avoid dealing with his own emotions for so long.

"And, no. I'm not talking about poetry," Etil continued. "I'm talking about your bond. I swear, I've never seen such a clumsy attempt before. I know pairs of padawans who've done a better job of bonding than this."

He frowned. "I don't understand what you're getting at. If you must know, we've completed the process of emotion-sharing, but that deepens a bond, it doesn't create one."

Obi-Wan nodded as well.

Good. At least Qui-Gon wasn't losing his mind all on his own.

Etil stared. "Is *that* what you think you've done? Light save me from feeble-minded Jedi masters. You've bonded to the boy."

Obi-Wan spoke up. "But Master Qui-Gon and I are already bonded."

"Now you are."

Qui-Gon had begun to make some sense out of this odd conversation. Contrary to Etil's accusation, he was *not* feeble-minded, and he had the perceptiveness to see what she was trying to say, even if he still didn't understand why she was saying it. Unless it were true, of course... but certainly he'd know a thing like that. Wouldn't he? "I acknowledged Obi-Wan's feelings yesterday..." he began cautiously.

"And?"

"And I allowed him to see my own."

"And?"

"And what?" Qui-Gon asked, genuinely puzzled. "That is what took place."

She stared at him hard, as though she could divine his secrets from his face, then made a similar search of Obi-Wan's expression. Finally, she snorted unhappily. "I suppose that could explain why it was done so clumsily. If you didn't intend to do it, then it couldn't have formed any other way. You'll have to repeat it, go through the formal steps and get it smoothed out or you're just going to cause problems for yourselves."

"Master?" Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon for an explanation.

Qui-Gon searched himself for an answer. No, for *the* answer. Etil was implying that he and Obi-Wan had completed the full soul bond, which would bind them together for all of their days. Something more profound than love, and usually only done as the expression of the deepest love. Pairs so bonded stayed together for their lifetimes, and beyond. He thought he should have known when he ceased to have his own singular soul, when it had become melded inextricably with another's.

And he was somewhat disturbed by the idea that he might have made the change so quickly, with no conscious decision of his own involved.

He couldn't feel a soul bond inside his mind. What he did feel as he searched himself was that welling depression again. That loss, that ache, as though something unbearably precious had been torn from him. Almost as though he had lost half of his soul...

His gaze flicked to Obi-Wan. He was still holding shielding against Obi-Wan, the strongest he could manage. It was not enough to keep him from feeling his padawan's emotions, not with Obi-Wan so close to him, but it was enough to give him a little distance. Enough, perhaps, even to block away a soul-bond.

Qui-Gon let the shielding drop. Completely. He needed to know now, and he didn't dare risk keeping any shielding up for fear that his subconscious might continue to block the knowledge.

The flare of an unguarded mind was bright in the dining hall, and faces turned curiously to them.

Qui-Gon did not care. He felt Obi-Wan's mind rush toward his, the contact completing him, filling up that emptiness and erasing his unspoken sadness. Yes, that was a soul bond. He knew it this time.

#Shielding,# he told Obi-Wan. #We need shielding.#

Together they erected a barrier around themselves, one that left them in and everyone else out.

_Master,_ Obi-Wan said, the word an acknowledgement of his presence, and a wondering exclamation all at once.

#Yes, my padawan. Yes.#

"That's better," Etil said, interrupting. "Still needs some work, but you've at least got it to a level that I wouldn't be ashamed of. If I were a pair of padawans, that is." She rose. "You know where to find me if you need any more help."

They still hadn't looked at her. She stalked off, muttering words under her breath that could only have been heard by herself, the room having become as abruptly noisy with gossip as it had been with speculation over the contest. "Not that you're going to ask for it. Stubborn idiots."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon certainly didn't hear her. #I made a mistake, didn't I? Only it was larger than I thought.#

_No mistake, master. This is what I want. Have been wanting._

#This is not what I wanted,# Qui-Gon thought.

_Master?_

Part Sixteen

Qui-Gon refused to say more in the dining hall. He finished his meal in silence, then stood, waited for his padawan to also rise, and left the room.

He had been taken off-guard by this change in their relationship and now had a large burden to deal with. One that was not entirely welcome. Although, he reflected wryly, he seemed to have found the answer to what he and Obi-Wan were going to do with the morning. Talk seemed very much on the agenda.

He needed to apologize to Obi-Wan for what he had said. It was true -- four days ago, he'd brought Obi-Wan to Coruscant in a misinformed attempt to push his padawan and his padawan's feelings away. And now, incredibly soon, they had formed a soul bond. He was tied forever to the person he had tried to separate from. It was not an unpleasant change, but it was sudden, to say the least. On the few occasions after the disaster with Xanatos that he had considered bonding with someone, he had rejected the idea, not wanting to make the same mistake again. Now his subconscious had made the decision without informing him.

Instead of returning to their quarters, Qui-Gon found a quiet spot in one of the Temple's gardens and took a seat on a bench. He needed the refreshment to be found in the presence of growing things, and suspected Obi-Wan might as well. His padawan dropped down next to him on the stone seat, leaving a small distance between them.

Obi-Wan had an anxious expression, but he did not question his master.

Qui-Gon supposed that the question had already been asked. #I am sorry, my padawan.#

_Master?_

#I should not have said that to you.# It was fact and apology all at once. All through the endless walk from the dining hall, Qui-Gon had felt Obi-Wan's eyes on him and his pain burning through their new bond. He'd injured the young man, and any hurt to Obi-Wan was now hurt to himself as well. *At least until the newness of the bond fades,* Qui-Gon reminded himself. *After some time, we will adjust. I hope. I just...*

"Wasn't expecting this, master," Obi-Wan completed for him.

Qui-Gon sighed. At the moment, rapport singing through their bond with the acknowledgement of it in the dining hall, not even his thoughts were safe. Of course, it wasn't as though he had chosen to redo their shielding, which made it as much his fault as that of the soul bond.

His padawan was regarding him with eyes that spoke of inner bruises, inflicted deeply within him.

Qui-Gon felt it as a pool of insecurity and sorrow at being rejected yet again, and had to blink back tears of his own. Obi-Wan was outwardly handling the emotions better, did not have tears showing, but then, Qui-Gon realized, his apprentice had had a great deal of practice at dealing with these emotions. From the very beginning, in fact.

The tears swelled, and he touched the hurting places in Obi-Wan's mind softly, doing his best to soothe the wounds he had inflicted. #Again, my padawan, I am sorry.#

"Where do we go from here, master?" Obi-Wan asked diffidently. "I did not think a soul bond could be rejected, but if you do not wish for this, then..." His voice trailed off for a moment. "Perhaps the Council could help. Or Master Etil."

Qui-Gon found himself falling into the cadence of a teacher, and felt comfort in that familiar role. "Once formed, a soul bond is extremely difficult to break... I suspect that neither of us would survive the shock. It does not dissolve even in death."

Obi-Wan simply looked at him, and from this, Qui-Gon knew that the young man had placed all of his future into his master's hands. The courage of it humbled Qui-Gon.

"We have circumvented all of the rituals involved in preparing for a soul bond. It is the only explanation I can offer for why my acceptance of it is lacking."

"What then are those rituals?"

He felt Obi-Wan's curiosity, and the barely allowed hope that perhaps speaking of such things might make the bond more real, might hold out hope that it would last. Qui-Gon's throat closed up. Opening his arms, he leaned forward to his padawan, who hesitantly leaned back against him. Qui-Gon folded Obi-Wan close to him, enclosing him in his cloak, wrapping it around him like a bird might wrap feathers around its chicks. #Do not fear, padawan. All will be well. I will not reject you now. If it comforts you, I *cannot* reject you now. We are a part of each other. We will be together always.#

The closeness and his master's tenderness combined to break Obi-Wan down, and his tears wet Qui-Gon's tunic. _I do not care about rejection. I do not care about the soul bond. I want you to be happy, and I can never be happy if this is not what you want._

#Padawan, my padawan.# He tugged Obi-Wan more closely to him, holding him mentally as well as physically. #I want you. You are needed. You mean a great deal to me, and always have.#

_Even when you gave me that rock as a birthday present?_

Startled, Qui-Gon hesitated, then chuckled and ruffled his apprentice's short hair. "It meant rather more than that."

"I know. Or at least, I know now." Obi-Wan sat up within the circle of his master's arms. _I feel much better when I am with you, when you are touching me. When you are not..._ Images of a dark something chasing him came through their bond, and an immense gap of loneliness yawning before his feet. _I suppose I must need more meditation, but all of a sudden, these past few days, I cannot control my emotions._

#That will pass. We must complete the ritual of soul bonding. I suspect that part of your unease is that we have not. Uncompleted... it seems as though it might be torn away at any moment, as though it is a precarious thing. I have felt that depth of despair as well.#

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face dry with his sleeve. _Surely not you, master._

#Even I.# "A soul bond is a profound thing, my padawan. Even a master may be intensely affected by it."

A wistful thought drifted to the forefront of Obi-Wan's mind, something that once would have gone unnoticed, and now lay there as clearly as if Obi-Wan had spoken it. _Does this mean you love me then?_

Qui-Gon knew he was as open to Obi-Wan. "Yes. How could I help it?"

_But do you want to?_

#Now?# His private thoughts were as open to Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan's were to him. *He means in the sense of returning his feelings of love. In wishing to meld with him entirely. And it has been so long since I contemplated any such thing. I know I have avoided it until now. But if I could... I remember feeling lonely this morning with my shields grasped tight around me. I have never felt so complete as the moment when I opened them and he came in. Is that then love? Perhaps, when we complete the rituals, I will know. We have gone at this backward, accomplished the bond before making sure of our readiness. I do not know what I feel except certain that I do not wish to push Obi-Wan away.*

_That's enough, master,_ Obi-Wan said gently into his mind. _For now._

#Oh?# Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who was staring up at him with a silly grin on his face. #You have ambitions then?#

_Large ones, master._

#Good.# He pulled Obi-Wan back against him, both men finding necessary comfort in the embrace.

Obi-Wan looked at the reader again. After returning from the gardens, Qui-Gon had insisted that he review a text on soul bonds before they took things any further. And had promptly disappeared for his own meditation, telling Obi-Wan that he would return in time so that they could survey the poetry before dinner.

Dinner. That was a whole half-day away.

Sighing, he returned his concentration to the book. He missed his master already. Their talk in the garden had not resolved his emotions, had only left them in a tighter knot as he waited to find out what would happen.

Of course, the text was a form of assistance. And, remembering what Qui-Gon had said about not breaking the soul bond, Obi-Wan felt his mouth lifting into a smile. They would be together. No matter what. They would be together.

The volume was one he had not read before. Soul bonds weren't something he'd needed to study as a junior or as an apprentice. He'd heard of soul bonds, of course, but mostly only in the sense of knowing who had one. The recent revelation that such things were expected, even commonplace, and that master/apprentice bonds frequently formed into soul bonds -- that had been news to him.

The text explained soul bonds, recapitulating the little he already knew, and confirming what Qui-Gon had told him today. The soul bond lasted forever -- when one half of a bonded pair died, the living half could still sense its partner. Yet another example that there was no death, there was the Force, Obi-Wan presumed. Very rarely was a soul bond dissolved. Even when one partner had gone over to the Dark Side, it was known for the bond to remain. Obi-Wan shivered. He didn't like to think about something like that happening.

He read that the usual way for a bonding to proceed was for the possibility of a bond to be recognized, and emotions to be shared. A soul bond could be a considered decision, he learned, or a pressing need, depending on various factors.

But in all cases, the book recommended that, before the bond was formed, certain rituals be performed.

With morbid curiosity, he read the reasons why it was best to complete the rituals first. The rituals helped to ease the transition, and prepare the mind as Qui-Gon had said. They consequence of not doing so could be as little as a failed bond or as much as insanity. No wonder Master Etil had approached them.

If, he read, a true bond did form without the use of ritual and was stable, then there was no cause for action. However, the volume cautioned, the rarity of soul bonding in the past was largely due, not to poor identification of possible pair-bonds, but rather to inadequate preparation of those pairs for the soul-bond.

Obi-Wan wasn't certain about that. It seemed to him that it would be more difficult to find the right person to soul bond with. Of course, there was what Master Etil had said about love being a choice rather than a destiny...

The rituals themselves seemed simple to Obi-Wan, although his breathing quickened as he read through them. Thinking on them made his situation more real to him, something so overwhelming that he could barely encompass the whole of it.

First, Preparation. Each person needed to be readied for the process. Meditation, practice in dropping shielding completely, and counselling over choices accompanied this stage.

Second, Mastering the Emotional. The couple would withdraw, and complete a deeper sharing of feelings. This was extremely important, and the author of the text advised that any hesitation or blockage of emotion or shielded place be cause for the bonding to be called off, and the participants to re-examine themselves.

*I think that's why we have a problem,* Obi-Wan thought. *Because Master Qui-Gon hasn't resolved his feelings yet.*

He read further. Third, Mastering the Physical. If the second stage of the ritual was successfully completed, then the pair would bare themselves physically as they had mentally. Acceptance had to be found there as well. Obi-Wan momentarily imagined being entwined together with his master in Qui-Gon's bed, then sighed. It was probably a very boring ritual.

Fourth, Attempting The Bond. When full acceptance of each other had been found and verified, the pair would be allowed to attempt a lesser bond than the soul bond. For them, that would be unnecessary, he supposed. They already had their student-teacher bond.

Fifth, Decision. There would be more meditation, and then finally, the sixth stage, Bonding, in a ceremony before witnesses -- specifically, 'with healers present' -- the pair would complete the soul bond.

Obi-Wan wondered which stage his master wished them to repeat. Meditation was a given -- they would meditate over this whether it was a required part of ritual or no. The emotional acceptance perhaps. Qui-Gon might feel more comfortable if they attempted that stage again, as it seemed to be the cause of why they had not fully finished the bond they currently had. The physical acceptance he skipped over. They'd spent a great deal of time in each other's company, and were physically comfortable with each other. If it mattered, he was attracted to his master, and he knew that he was attractive. Problems there seemed unlikely. And they already had a lesser bond. Which left the formal ceremony. Perhaps that was also a cause of their problems -- the lack of deliberate choice in forming the soul bond. That then, they should also repeat, and he would look forward to repeating. Public acknowledgement of his bond with Qui-Gon -- that would be satisfying.

Obi-Wan closed the text and decided to have the noon meal in their quarters. He did not wish to face the wall of poetry right now. Tonight would be soon enough.

But try as he might, his mind kept returning to a passage of the text. 'A soul bond does not mean love, or even happiness. It means being bound together until the end of days, sharing one another's feelings for good or ill. A bonded pair can grow to hate one another, and share that hate, as easily or more easily than they might share joy. For this reason, if no other, a soul bond should not be entered into lightly.'

Part Seventeen

Qui-Gon hoped that their talk in the gardens had calmed Obi-Wan's torn emotions. His awareness of Obi-Wan through their new bond said otherwise -- his padawan was still distressed over something. Unless he concentrated, the distance between them allowed him to avoid involuntarily reading his apprentice's thoughts, and Qui-Gon did so instinctively, giving Obi-Wan as much privacy as could exist in their situation.

His meditations had left him more certain of his course, if only because it could not now be avoided. They were soul-bonded. What was, was. It could not be argued with or refused. It existed, and he must bend to that reality. Or be broken by it, and see Obi-Wan broken as well.

The questions that still troubled him involved his own unreadiness for this bond. He had not anticipated it. Even when he had come to acknowledge Etil's insistence that he must at least recognize Obi-Wan's feelings if he wanted to keep the young man as his padawan, Qui-Gon had not considered going further into reciprocation. His self-protective distance kept him from repeating mistakes of the past, of which love was one, and it had served well to keep him from the deepest emotions for years. There was no emotion; there was peace. He'd had peace.

No longer.

Now... he loved Obi-Wan. And could no longer keep himself separate from his padawan. At the moment, with their bond still raw and rough-edged, he felt the pulling need for Obi-Wan's presence. A craving that he would have liked to say he kept in check by exerting control. Except that wasn't true. Instead, Obi-Wan was at the back of his mind, now that his shielding was down to permit it. Putting the shielding back in place would be painful. Even now the lack of his padawan being fully present both physically and mentally hurt, and he knew it must be the same for Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon was not sure whether that craving for Obi-Wan would lessen or increase when the bond was fully completed. It seemed likely that when the rawness diminished, then the need would lessen as well because it had been fulfilled, and Obi-Wan *would* always be with him.

And then... then there was a final issue. He closed his eyes, pushing any disturbing emotions out into the Force, allowing it to clarify his mind. There weren't enough words for what he needed to understand. Already his heart was opening to Obi-Wan. Already, he needed him, needed his comfort and his self. Soon they would be mates and lovers as well as everything they already were to each other, and while he thought Obi-Wan would be ready -- and eager -- for such a thing, it stunned Qui-Gon.

He remembered the feelings about his apprentice that he had not allowed himself to have. The moments when he had not been able to avoid Obi-Wan's emotions or his needs, as much as masterly composure demanded that he be accepting and calm. Obi-Wan wanted him, Qui-Gon had no doubt of that. But he... with all of his failure and years of pushing that side of himself away... what would he do? Would this conspire to cripple their bond?

He did not want it to. Was becoming increasingly aware that he wanted -- and needed -- Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon wondered, not for the first time, what his subconscious had been thinking.

After his meditations, and a trip to the wall where the poetry contest was being held, Qui-Gon returned to their shared quarters. Obi-Wan was still with Master Bith. He surveyed the room. They would need to move to different quarters. These living arrangements would shortly no longer be appropriate. He wondered how he had slept the night before -- Obi-Wan had not slept at all well, and Qui-Gon had a good idea why.

This forced dependence on another was not something Qui-Gon was accustomed to. If the person he had to depend on was someone other than his beloved padawan, he did not think he could do it. With Obi-Wan... Qui-Gon still hoped that the adjustment to the bond would be quick.

He felt that same hollowness inside himself again, only this time, unlike at breakfast, was unshielded to Obi-Wan, and felt an immediate pulse of reassurance. _I'm on my way, master._

#You have finished your lesson, have you not?#

_Yes, Master._

Qui-Gon caught an impression of a naked, dripping wet padawan hastily drying off and stuffing himself into a set of robes, then turned his mind away from that image as best he could.

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan hurried through the door and went straight to his master, who sat on his bed, looking blankly at the wall.

Obi-Wan stopped beside him. "Are you all right, master?" He reached out daringly, touching his master's shoulder with his hand.

Qui-Gon covered it with his own.

No more needed to be said out loud.

#I need you, Obi-Wan... and I'm not used to needing anyone.# Images of emptiness and the emotion of frustration came through clearly. He communicated the results of his meditation, despite the private nature of his thoughts. Obi-Wan needed to know. Needed to understand why his master was hesitating, and what a flimsy barrier was holding Qui-Gon back from the full commitment they both needed now. #I am setting a poor example for you, my padawan.#

Obi-Wan sagged into a sitting position next to his master, his hand slipping down to Qui-Gon's back. He rested his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder, seeking to comfort as much as he needed to be comforted. It felt no more than a logical extension of what had come before.

They swayed into each other's arms slowly, as though both their minds and bodies were tired of fighting anymore.

With a sigh, Qui-Gon let himself fall backward onto the bed, taking Obi-Wan with him.

Obi-Wan curled his head into the corner of Qui-Gon's shoulder.

#This was not quite what I had in mind, padawan.#

_I'd do anything to avoid seeing the results of the poetry contest._

Qui-Gon chuckled affectionately. #You probably would. But without reason. You will have done well no matter how you do.#

Obi-Wan would have levered himself up to give his master a long stare, but he didn't feel like moving. He *had* just come from a training session, never mind that it should not have taken up so much of his energy as to collapse him here as he was. Not to mention his master's unaccustomed openness... _What's happening to us, master?_

Qui-Gon was comfortable and contented now that Obi-Wan was both physically and mentally there with him. #We are, no doubt, experiencing the effects of the soul-bond. If you've done your reading?#

_I did it. I still don't understand._

#What is happening to us is the need to master the physical.#

Obi-Wan blushed despite himself.

What Obi-Wan was thinking about carried clearly over to Qui-Gon. #Yes, and no.#

Yes? There was a possibility of a yes? Obi-Wan listened closely.

#A Force bond may form between individuals of any race, species, gender, or relation.#

Obi-Wan nodded mentally. That made sense. He had thought of it, but it slotted neatly into what he felt to be true about bonds. He would love Qui-Gon if he were a hundred years older, sixty years younger, female, or even Yoda.

#I'm not so old as that, padawan.#

_But?_ Obi-Wan prompted, wanting very much to hear this.

Qui-Gon felt amused affection for Obi-Wan, which transmitted instantly through their bond, and his padawan snuggled more deeply into the crook of his shoulder. He could easily grow *very* fond of Obi-Wan's touch.

#But the demand of the bond is to be together as completely as is possible. Mentally and physically. At the moment, that seems to mean that we have difficulties when we are apart, but that should ease. It should. I *have*, after all, seen partners in life-bonded pairs walking around without being tied to their partner.#

As completely as possible? Obi-Wan wondered what his master meant by that. He didn't ask directly -- it seemed too bold -- but Qui-Gon read the thought anyway.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's body lying close to his, Obi-Wan lying on his side, stretched out along Qui-Gon's body. And felt the urge for more. How was Obi-Wan handling the feeling? He did not need to dip into Obi-Wan's mind to find his answer. *Ah. Obi-Wan is used to this thwarted desire.*

_Yes, master,_ Obi-Wan said simply.

Qui-Gon felt pity for his apprentice, and a certain sort of awed pride that Obi-Wan had successfully dealt with these feelings for so long. #We are physically compatible -- enough, at any rate -- and not forbidden by taboo or law to engage in a sexual relationship. It will probably happen.#

Obi-Wan's mind touch had altered, but his response was the same. _Yes, master._

Qui-Gon's reservations did not ease.

Obi-Wan sensed his master's turning away. _If you don't want me..._ he began, wistfully regretful.

Qui-Gon caught the self-blame in that thought. #Everything is not your fault, Obi-Wan. Very little is your fault, in fact. It is I who am to blame here. There is nothing lacking in you.#

Only a padawan's trust in his master kept Obi-Wan from completely disbelieving it. There had to be something wrong with him, and in any case, he was ashamed of himself, and of how he was pushing his master into something Qui-Gon did not want. Obi-Wan wanted desperately to move now, to get up and remove himself from how he was shamelessly draped over his master.

He needed to move. His pride demanded it. His hurting heart demanded it.

But the bond would not permit it.

And neither would the strong arms that had suddenly clasped him close.

#You are precious to me, Obi-Wan. More so now than before, and,# a fierce wave of protectiveness, #there is *nothing*, NOTHING, wrong with you.#

_But you don't want..._

All of the walls Qui-Gon had put up were being torn down, and he could not bear the hurt in Obi-Wan because it was in him also. #My love, I need you as badly as you need me. There is no resisting a soul-bond. I have already done enough damage by trying. It will happen.# *Despite my hesitation, despite my desire to grab what is right in front of me, it _will_ happen, and in that, I must try to find peace.*

Qui-Gon found himself on the brink of tears, and then realized it wasn't him. It was Obi-Wan. He pulled his padawan higher, until Obi-Wan was half lying on his chest and he could see Obi-Wan's face. #Tears, my Obi-Wan?#

_Of gratitude only, I assure you, master._

And then Obi-Wan kissed him, dipping his head.

Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan's lips, returning the soft pressure and reassuring his padawan that the kiss was welcome. His hands came up to cradle Obi-Wan's head, long fingers brushing the tears away.

Then Qui-Gon gently but firmly put Obi-Wan aside.

#We must wait, my Obi-Wan, and complete the bonding rituals properly this time. We cannot risk another mishap. For both of us, our continued sanity depends on it.#

Obi-Wan scarcely heard him, dazed. If this was the result of a mere kiss, he didn't know if he would survive the mastering of the physical.

Qui-Gon chuckled again, and sat up. His hand reached out for Obi-Wan's, not yet willing to let their still-tenuous connection to lapse. "There is poetry to study, padawan."

*And poetry here as well,* Obi-Wan thought, allowing himself to be chivvied from the bed and on to more intellectual pursuits.

Part Eighteen

As they made their way to the dining hall, Obi-Wan followed at his master's elbow out of long-standing habit rather than conscious choice. He could not have made a conscious choice right then, anymore than he could have *not* followed Qui-Gon.

Their bond seemed to have only grown stronger as a result of what had happened back in their room.

#It has. We must complete the bonding soon lest the force of it seeking completion overwhelm us. If the bond is not completed before then...#

_What?_

Qui-Gon shrugged mentally. #It is not a matter for alarm. The most likely possibility is that we will simply be forced to complete it at a time we are not ready for.#

Obi-Wan had a brief mental picture of the two of them lying together on the floor of the Council room, with Yoda giving advice, and brushed it away as a distraction. He remembered the pain of the morning and of the previous evening, caused by the bond and knew what the real consequences might be. They needed to master their bond, not have the bond master them. _I don't want to risk that, master._

#It is only a possibility. We will move forward with the bonding this evening, beginning with the stage of meditation.#

Obi-Wan felt great relief at knowing the process was beginning, which left him as they approached the hall where the poetry had been inscribed on the walls. He regulated his breathing, and did his best to convince himself that he was being silly over nothing.

Masters, padawans and juniors gathered around indiscriminately, reading the poetry that had been posted. Most read in silence, but there was still a considerable amount of conversation going on for the normally quiet and contemplative Jedi.

#Which one is yours, Obi-Wan?# his master asked.

Obi-Wan fought an urge to say 'Guess'.

#I heard that.#

Qui-Gon moved to study the entries, looking every inch the thoughtful Jedi master. Obi-Wan hovered behind him, trying his best not to read anything.

While their bond, strong in their physical closeness, simultaneously fed every line his master read directly to him.

Yes, this was going to take some getting used to.

_There is no knowledge. Only ignorance._

#Very Dark Side of the author.#

_I could come up with something better than that,_ Obi-Wan thought.

#As I told you, my padawan.#

Qui-Gon moved on to the next poem.

_When everything is the Force,  
boundaries are artificial constructs of mind.  
Ignorance comes from boundaries.  
There are no boundaries,  
there is no ignorance,  
there is only infinity._

And then the next.

_There is no ignorance  
there is no knowledge  
without ignorance, without knowledge_

These were the kind of entries Obi-Wan had become intimidated by. He didn't quite understand them, and he knew there was something more going on with them, something profound he could not even hope to grasp.

#You will,# came the reassuring thought from Qui-Gon.

And still more entries, until Obi-Wan could scarcely take them all in.

_Knowledge is knowing  
what you do not know._

_petals scattering on the ground  
wisdom's flower  
has a displeasing smell._

_A knowledgeable man knows best  
what he did wrong._

Qui-Gon finished reading the last poem, and Obi-Wan held his breath as Qui-Gon turned his head in the direction of his poem. His master glanced at him, a slight smile touching his lips. Then and only then did Obi-Wan remember that his master knew almost every thought in his head, and his distress had only shown his master where to look for his entry. *This is embarrassing,* he thought.

#We will both become accustomed to it. There is no reason to be embarrassed, padawan. We are one.#

Obi-Wan didn't find much comfort in that. He'd still rather it was Qui-Gon's poem on the wall than his own.

But Qui-Gon had found his entry, and was reading it.

_a wise man is one  
who is in tune with the Force  
even when he does not know  
the Force exists_

the Force is everywhere  
and everywhere it is  
is life

#You found your answer.#

_Yes, master._

#I shall have to devise another question.#

Obi-Wan groaned inwardly, but still, a part of him basked in the glow of his master's approval.

After Qui-Gon had finished surveying all the poetry he wished to read, they moved into the dining hall and sat down for the evening meal.

The conversation of the day before had not abated, had indeed increased. Obi-Wan ignored the speculation over who would win the poetry contest. He had more interesting things to think about.

Such as the ritual of Mastering the Physical.

Of course, it would help if he could maintain any kind of shielding against Qui-Gon, who had the most amused look in his eyes.

Perhaps it would be better to talk about poetry.

"Which poem did you like best, master?" he asked out loud. It was a weak subject change, as Obi-Wan already knew which one Qui-Gon had favored, but Qui-Gon allowed it.

"It is not an issue of preference, but rather one of expression. My own reaction is based more in which poem resonates with me and my personal experience with the koan."

Obi-Wan took pleasure in the simple conversation with his master. The words seemed to help mask the constant flow of emotion between them. He needed that, because he was becoming overloaded by the flood of emotion coming his way through the bond.

They talked quietly throughout dinner, patiently awaiting the announcement of the winning poem and the holder of the new Council seat. Finally, the departing Council member stood, and a gentle wave of the Force sent the message through the hall that quiet would be appreciated.

When she spoke into that silence, her voice was Force-enhanced so that it could be heard throughout the large room. "I have made my decision. I offer my seat to the author of the following poem:

_ignorance is knowledge  
waiting to happen_

A young man with a padawan's braid stood up.

Obi-Wan felt his shock reverberating to Qui-Gon, and made an attempt at calming himself.

But not before his master noticed. #Is it so strange that a padawan might win? I believe we've discussed this.#

_Yes, master, it is strange. I did not believe that it could happen._

#If it calms you, that padawan is here on Coruscant to take his knight's trials. If he passes, he will be only one of many knights who have held a Council seat.#

Obi-Wan quieted his concerns. His master was right, and in any case, his opinion did not matter. Tonight, something more important would happen. They would meditate and begin to prepare themselves for the bonding. _What concerns you most about the bonding ritual, master?_

His master was outwardly silent, but his thoughts were not hidden.

#We have far to go. I have not yet mastered my feelings, although my meditations have aided me.#

Obi-Wan had felt that in Qui-Gon's acceptance of him in their quarters, and nodded mentally.

#Then there is the physical.# Qui-Gon waited.

Obi-Wan felt a brief moment's resentment, then freedom, as he realized what his master had stopped for and why. The resentment came from knowing that his master had paused to get his reactions -- and knowing that he, Obi-Wan, could not prevent Qui-Gon from seeing all of his reactions, in their full embarrassing detail.

And the freedom came from realizing he had nothing to be embarrassed about. That Qui-Gon knew, and accepted, and soon, they would be acting on them.

#Exactly.#

Obi-Wan felt his master's pride in his perception, and smiled.

#Come, padawan. There is something I wish you to see.#

They made their way out of the dining hall. Qui-Gon led him to the wall where the poetry was posted, threading their way through an undiminished group of readers.

Obi-Wan was not sure why he'd been brought here. Hopefully, not to memorize everything there.

#No, Obi-Wan. Not that.#

He looked where his master indicated, and saw a poem.

#This,# his master sent softly. #Read this.#

Obi-Wan looked at the poem and obediently began to read.

_I. No ray of sun, moon or star  
touches the ground of Coruscant.  
The planet's lifeless soil  
supports the weight of buildings  
and the buildings the weight of a galaxy._

I asked the Jedi master,  
"What is the answer? Where is the truth?"  
"Over there. Here," she replied.

The past is gone  
covered by constructs of mind.  
Without it,  
I am unable to take hold of my future.

The murky light  
obscures  
the bottom of my heart.

How can there be a new beginning  
when no life is left  
to begin again?

II.

The Jedi master loved his padawan.  
Teacher, mentor, father --  
he would be lover if he could.  
His padawan is brilliant. Soon to be knight, his master  
knows his worth,  
and the Jedi master is sworn to poverty.

Pay for the smell of food  
with the  
sound  
of money

When the padawan is lost  
to arrogance and greed,  
his love curdled,  
the master believes he will never  
love again.

Love is not the strongest bond.  
Hate is.

The sun is gone now,  
the buildings built.

When another padawan finds him  
the master turns away.  
No life could grow  
in this lightless ground.

The shoot stretches up to  
find the sun,  
not knowing  
the sun is gone.

III.

The future unguessable,  
the pain incalculable,  
the reward unknowable,  
the way unknown.

Without examination, is there thought?  
Without feeling, is there emotion?  
Without light, how can new life form?

If you feel not,  
do you live not?  
Do you die not?  
What then is the purpose of not feeling?

IV.

Transplanted into the Temple garden,  
the new shoot grows under Jedi hands.  
Transplanted into a new bond,  
the heart grows again.

Tend the plants, make the bed.  
This is the secret of life.  
Hide it well -- tell everyone.

_You wrote this, didn't you, master?_ Obi-Wan asked, awed and honored all at once.

#Yes, I did.#

Obi-Wan wished desperately that they were not in public. He wanted to reach out to his master, whether to comfort or be comforted, he did not know.

A hand met his upper arm, answering his silent request. #There is no reason we can not touch.#

He controlled a laugh. What he wanted was not a mere touch of a hand on robe-covered skin, but to pull himself into the curve of Qui-Gon's shoulder and sob.

A mental embrace enfolded him, letting him know his master shared his wish for closeness. #Better?#

_Yes._ A pause, then, _Master... thank you._

#You are welcome, Obi-Wan. While in meditation this morning, I had a realization. I have come to accept our bond. I think it already means a great deal to me.#

_I think you mean everything to me._

Qui-Gon shifted his hand to Obi-Wan's other shoulder, his arm around the padawan, and steered him through the crowd of Jedi reading the poetry.

He dropped his arm as they moved into a more open portion of the hallway.

They remained outwardly quiet, but inwardly, Obi-Wan was still reflecting on the content of the poem he'd just read, Qui-Gon's supporting presence in his mind.

*He's willing to take a chance... no, not a chance -- he thinks I'm bringing light into his life.* He marvelled at that thought. Him? Be able to do something like that for anyone? Much less his beloved master?

It was what he'd wanted for so long, and he was dazzled by the unexpected fulfillment of his wish. Qui-Gon wanted him, needed him. Would allow him to reach out finally.

Obi-Wan did then, throwing out a mental hand to his master, who caught it as though he'd already been holding it and would always be holding it.

'I do need you' was the half-formed response in Qui-Gon's head, but he could not bring him to say it so baldly. He'd already said so in different words, but why could he not do it now? *After all this, I still can't admit to needing him,* came the thought from Qui-Gon, shared without conscious decision to do so.

_I think you just did, master._

Obi-Wan caught another wash of feeling from his master. Resigned now to their bond, Qui-Gon was able to accept that Obi-Wan was there and would be there. Able to accept. Still not quite capable of relying on the bond, of expressing what he had so long kept hidden.

_I think you said it best in your poem, master._

#Hmm?#

_The shoot is beginning to grow. It is not the adult plant._

#Wisdom from the mouths of padawans.#

They entered their quarters, and Obi-Wan moved immediately to fetch the meditation mats. He spread them out on the floor of the common room. Qui-Gon joined him, as they knelt down, ingrained habit governing their actions.

So quickly were they transported from one state to another. Obi-Wan felt a little off-balance from the speed of it.

Qui-Gon's mental voice was as calm and soothing as his speaking voice. #Think about the bonding. Bring up any doubts, any fears, any negative thoughts you may have, and examine them thoroughly. Every concern you have should be dealt with.#

_What about you, master?_ Obi-Wan asked. He had wanted this, Qui-Gon had not.

Wryly, #I also. Perhaps more so.#

First, before he began, Obi-Wan hesitantly reached out to his master. He could do this now, it was allowed, he reminded himself. More certainly then, Obi-Wan touched Qui-Gon's mind, offering his own strength to add to his master's.

Qui-Gon lifted his head to look into Obi-Wan's eyes, his own wet. #I have been a fool not to see what was here before me. Forgive me, please.#

_Always, master._

Part Nineteen

Their meditation had concluded peacefully. Obi-Wan had done his best to concentrate on his own thoughts, keeping them as separate as he could from his master's. A difficult task when the two of them were so close, but it would do no good to eavesdrop on his master's problems when it was his own that he needed to deal with.

But, indeed, he had already been thinking of these issues for a great deal of time, and did not need much meditation to examine his feelings.

He loved Qui-Gon, and had no doubts about that. He was absolutely sure of it, and would be absolutely sure of it for the rest of his life, he thought. Especially now.

Being bonded for life to Qui-Gon seemed like a wonderful thing rather than anything to dread. He would always have his master, even after he became a knight. There would be no separation, no painful parting when he left his apprentice status behind. They would be together.

He discounted the warnings in the reading he had done about the painful aspects of a soul bond. He had already experienced the pain of Qui-Gon abandoning him, and the fear of being rejected; any pain the soul bond might bring could not eclipse that.

In all, Obi-Wan was content with the situation, and instead chose to meditate on the one topic that he still could not think of without embarrassment and anxiety -- mastering the physical aspect of their bond.

Qui-Gon had confirmed what Obi-Wan had only suspected -- sex would be involved.

Sex. With Qui-Gon. With the man he loved more than any other, had thought he was losing only a few short days ago.

It was an awe-inspiring and almost terrifying thought.

Obi-Wan had examined his fear very carefully. Fear could destroy them.

What exactly was he afraid of? Being rejected? Not likely to happen. Being clumsy or incapable? This was not Obi-Wan's first encounter with physical pleasure, nor even his fifth. He knew what to do and how to do it, and did not think inexperience would be a concern. That it was *Qui-Gon* who would be his partner would make things different however. He could well imagine fumbling with Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan had kept his breathing even only with an effort. Carefully, he resigned himself to clumsiness and awkwardness. His usual grace should stand him in good stead, but if it did not, then he had to accept that he was fallible and that things could and did go wrong in real life. As opposed to fantasies, where everything went right.

The difference, however, between reality and fantasy was that, this time, afterward, he would have someone holding him, someone whom he loved.

Obi-Wan's meditations brought him peace.

It was what Qui-Gon had said after their meditation that had left Obi-Wan unable to speak.

Qui-Gon was waiting for an answer even now, standing over him in the common area of their quarters.

"You were not able to sleep last night, and I slept well. Why do you think that is, padawan?" a deceptively mild voice had asked.

Because he'd been working on his poem was the obvious answer. But he had tried to sleep both before and after that, and had not succeeded in anything more than a fitful, restless slumber. He had been missing something the whole time, and even when he was awake, he had kept reaching out to touch Qui-Gon's sleeping mind to reassure himself of his master's presence.

He hadn't been able to sleep because he had needed Qui-Gon?

The thought was read. "I believe so, Obi-Wan. I also believe that you may be been encouraging my sleep in some way."

*By misusing my abilities? I wouldn't -- I hope I didn't--*

Calm wrapped around him. #No, Obi-Wan. I think you, consciously or subconsciously, aided my sleep by reassuring me of your presence. You could not do it for yourself, probably because of the bond being unacknowledged then, but possibly because your mind was unable to bridge the distance between us.#

Obi-Wan nodded, unsure what he was supposed to say to that.

#I do not want you to miss your sleep again, and so, I believe the obvious solution, given that my bed is bigger than yours, is for you to join me in my slumbers.#

His heart was pounding fast, and he felt dizzy again. So maybe he hadn't dealt with his anxiety as well as he'd thought. _Oh, yes, master._

Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled. "Good. I am glad to have that resolved. Please feel free to join me when you are ready."

With that, Qui-Gon disappeared into his own room, leaving Obi-Wan to stare after him like a Tuskan raider deprived of its prey.

*He's waiting for me. Qui-Gon is waiting for _me_.* Obi-Wan wanted to dance, wanted to leap into the air and perform some acrobatics that most definitely would be showing off, although only to himself, but breathed deeply instead and controlled himself.

All except for the smile on his face that would not go away.

Within a few minutes, he had readied himself for bed, then picked up an extra pillow and went to the door of Qui-Gon's sleeping room. _Master?_

#Come in, Obi-Wan.#

Obi-Wan stepped inside, wearing both the light leggings he customarily wore to bed, as well as an undertunic hastily pulled from his supply of clothing. His master, however, was wearing nothing but the scrap of fabric wrapped around his hips.

Obi-Wan tried not to whimper.

He felt his master's tolerant amusement at his reaction, and let the tunic slip to the floor. No need of that, if Qui-Gon was going to look like *this*.

He'd seen the other man's body before, and had experienced it in his imagination, but it was something different to see that powerful, lanky, muscular body and *know* that it would shortly be joined with his.

This time, Obi-Wan did whimper.

Qui-Gon pulled back the light covering from the bed, and sat down. He patted the other side of the bed. "Sit here, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan tried not to stumble over his own feet, and sat, putting the pillow down.

His master let his back rest against the wall behind the head of the bed, and regarded Obi-Wan calmly. "Are you all right, my padawan?"

Obi-Wan blushed, knowing that Qui-Gon had overheard all of his internal monologue. "I'm fine -- I *will* be fine, master."

"In time." #I am only asking you to sleep here, with me, for the comfort of both of us. You need not be apprehensive about the morrow, or anything that may happen in the future beyond that day.#

His need for his master looked like fear?

#Is it need then?#

_Yes, master._ Obi-Wan swallowed the arousal he felt. Qui-Gon was being sensible. They were going to share a bed, nothing more. This had happened on other occasions. He had slept with Qui-Gon before. However, he had not felt as sensitized then to his master's every movement, every breath, as he did now.

Qui-Gon turned more toward Obi-Wan, who was still perching on the edge of the bed. It was clear to Obi-Wan that, despite his attempt to hide his desire, his master had felt it, or at least part of it, anyway.

#Desire is a good thing, Obi-Wan. It would make things very difficult if you did not want me.#

_How could I not want you?_ Obi-Wan asked, without needing to think about it. _You are..._ Images, words and memories paraded through his mind. His master was wise, handsome, capable... A memory of Qui-Gon in formal garb at a Republic function came to him, tall and imposing. Then of Qui-Gon stepping out of a snowstorm, protective and very much needed at that time. Yes, he loved his master, and wanted him. How could he not?

#You honor me, Obi-Wan.#

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be pulled more fully onto the bed by that warm regard. _Not more than you deserve._

#Eventually, my padawan,# Qui-Gon said, lying down on the bed, #you will come to understand that I am only a man, much like any other.# He pulled the top covering over himself.

Obi-Wan felt somewhat calmer now that Qui-Gon was going through the motions of readying himself for bed. Qui-Gon lying down under a light blanket was much less threatening to his composure than Qui-Gon sitting up on the bed, for all the world looking like he was waiting for Obi-Wan to dive into his arms. If only he could.

#Soon, my impatient padawan. Now, please, come to bed. It is late, and we need our sleep.#

Obi-Wan laid down cautiously, but did not pull the bed covering over him. He preferred to sleep without covering in the temperature-controlled climate of their rooms. In that, he would be fine here. But Qui-Gon would be lying next to him, and he was hyper-aware of his master's body only inches from his own. *How can I sleep like this?*

#You close your eyes, and center your mind. Or I could put you to sleep.#

_I'll center my mind, thank you, master._ He wasn't sure that he could fall asleep so simply, but it was surprisingly easy to let himself drift away, even with -- or especially with -- Qui-Gon lying next to him.

He was comfortable, and the other half of himself that had felt so far away yesterday night was right there where Obi-Wan needed his master to be.

Qui-Gon's dreams were less than peaceful. The bond and his memories of the past featured prominently. He had seen Xanatos with Obi-Wan's face, taunting him over his feelings, and telling him that Xanatos had never cared for him, and that Obi-Wan's caring for him would soon turn to disgust when he discovered the real Qui-Gon.

Yes, it had been a bad night.

And so it was, when he woke suddenly from dark dreams to find Obi-Wan in his bed, curled next to him with one hand clutching onto Qui-Gon's forearm, that Qui-Gon was, for one of the few times in his life, disoriented.

He always came out of his dreams without transition, and he had a Jedi sense of place to know where he was -- disorientation should not happen.

And yet it did, and as he looked over at Obi-Wan's sleeping form, he gradually remembered why and how Obi-Wan had come to be there.

Last night, he had asked Obi-Wan to sleep here with him, to ease both of their rests. It had not worked well for him. He had slept, but with the knowledge of their uncompleted bond hammering at him.

They were still on a path for disaster, as long as the soul bond remained uncompleted.

And as long as he could not master his own emotions. He remembered dreaming of Xanatos, and knew that he had not fully dealt with his past, despite his words to Obi-Wan and the poem he had written, expressing his new understanding of his situation. He would have to do better than that. The next step in the bonding ritual was the mastering of the emotional, and he bore the greater part of the responsibility there.

He should meditate now, before Obi-Wan awoke and prepare himself further for the day to come, but instead, he laid there next to his padawan, basking in the brightness of a morning with Obi-Wan in it.

Part Twenty

Obi-Wan woke more slowly from his dreams than his master. He'd slept well, being worn out from lack of sleep the night before this one. Jedi resources could compensate for lack of sleep, but that did not make replenishment of one's personal reserves less important. One should be well-rested and ready to face whatever might happen, not living on the edge to begin with.

So, when his dreams held the sensation of being cuddled close to a warm body and feeling well-loved all the way through, it was little surprise to slowly fade from dreams into a waking world where the same was true. Was, in fact, a gentle transition, and scarcely noticed.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan."

The deep voice brought him out of his reverie. Obi-Wan met his master's eyes and smiled sweetly. "Good morning, master."

For a moment he thought Qui-Gon might kiss him, and welcomed it as yet one more moment in the succession of dreams he had experienced during the night. It would be a natural continuation of those pleasant shadows.

But then Qui-Gon got out of bed, and Obi-Wan had to follow.

Obi-Wan felt his master's lingering contentment, which he shared, and some measure of distress as well, which he did not understand. Had he done something to upset his master?

But Qui-Gon shut himself into their shared bathroom before he could be questioned, and Obi-Wan retreated to his own room to find clothing for the day, and a measure of composure. He'd felt Qui-Gon's contentment, and his master had spoken no word of disapproval. Obi-Wan didn't know what was wrong and it felt awful. He hurt without knowing why.

When Obi-Wan came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day, he found his master sitting at the table in the common room, eating breakfast. Obi-Wan took a seat next to him, and began eating from the plate set out for him.

He ate quietly, doing his best to concentrate on the moment and nothing else. It kept his thoughts clear. Qui-Gon obviously wished for silence, and it was Obi-Wan's duty as his padawan to obey him.

However, Obi-Wan was finally beginning to understand why concentrating on nothing was an important skill to learn. If you had no ability to shield, it was a good way to hide your thoughts.

The only way.

He concentrated on eating his breakfast, and on being in the now, to keep from bothering his master.

When they had finished with their silent breakfast, Obi-Wan cleared the table. He still felt the same sense of distress coming from his master, and now, with breakfast over and nothing to focus his attention on, Obi-Wan felt that distress turning his breakfast into nausea.

Qui-Gon's emotions pained him.

"It is a side effect of the bond," Qui-Gon said quietly, the first to break the stillness that had grown between them. "Did your reading cover it?"

"Yes, master. The text said that bonded pairs share feelings, for good or ill. And that hate could be shared as easily as joy."

"That is what you are experiencing now. And," Qui-Gon continued mentally, #we will experience the same thing during the ritual of Mastering the Emotional.#

Obi-Wan felt his master's own doubt about the ritual. _Do you believe that we cannot handle it, master?_

#I think that we are not prepared for it, or for what it might lead to. Completing this ritual will leave us more open to each other, not less. You will feel my emotions as I feel yours. If you are experiencing problems now, then they will likely become worse, not better.#

His current illness, such as it was, came from experiencing his Qui-Gon's negative emotions. _Then I suppose I should work on ensuring that you are always happy._

Qui-Gon shook his head, but a small smile had formed on his features, one that was echoed in his emotions. The feeling of distress eased. #It is not that simple, padawan.#

Obi-Wan wondered about that. He had been taught to see life as being extremely simple indeed -- complexity was a web that people wove over the elementary nature innate in the universe.

But his master was beckoning to him, and he followed Qui-Gon out the door.

Etil was still not sure about this idea. True, they needed help. And she understood their problems. But why in the name of the Force did those two have to go and get themselves bonded?

It was precisely the wrong thing for them to have done in their situation. Qui-Gon Jinn, a supposed master of Jedi ways, kept himself closed off so firmly that she wouldn't have believed he could even form a soul bond if she hadn't seen it for herself. And being soul-bonded was only going to encourage the boy's dependence problem. This was not a development she liked.

But Master Qui-Gon had asked her this morning to do this, and she did know the problem she was up against. And, given her talk with Master Windu earlier, she didn't trust him to deal properly with Qui-Gon. Windu didn't see the other man's weaknesses, didn't know how to probe and get at what was underneath Qui-Gon's surface calm. She did. And it *was* too late to undo the bond. She'd known that much when she'd seen them together that morning in the dining hall.

Her task today was only to monitor the ritual, to make sure that neither participant was harmed. And, she thought, just maybe to kick a certain Jedi master in his robes if he didn't finally open up and complete the emotional part of the bonding properly.

"Come in," she said, a second before the pair waiting in front of her door could signal that they were there.

Qui-Gon entered first, the boy right behind him.

"So," she said, "you want to have a life-bond."

Her comment won her a slight grimace from the boy, although Qui-Gon's face remained expressionless.

"All right, all right," she said, giving up her somewhat childish attempt to tweak Qui-Gon's composure. "Sit down, and let's get started."

They sat on the couch across from her chair, on opposite ends.

"This part of the bonding ritual is Mastering the Emotional. You--" she nodded to Qui-Gon, "need to open up to your apprentice."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I'm aware of my failings in this area."

"Good. That helps. You," she looked at Obi-Wan, "don't need to worry about it. You're easy to read." She turned on Qui-Gon again. "If you haven't already seen everything inside him, then I don't know what's wrong with your perception."

She looked back at Obi-Wan. "And, for your information, what I'm mostly going to do is to watch you two and make sure that nothing goes wrong. Or if it does, that the healers get here promptly. Other than that, ignore me. Now, go ahead."

Etil settled back in her chair, her fingertips of her left hand touching the fingertips of her right, and closed her eyes, the better to concentrate on the psychic plane. She had been quite serious about saying that she would watch over them. And, given their history, she had a feeling that they were going to need it.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan closed their eyes as well, dropping into a light rapport, much as though they were meditating, but centering on each other. Their incomplete bond flared into life around them, connecting them even more closely.

#First, we must drop our shielding.#

_Drop it, master? Won't that leave us open to..._

#No, padawan. Master Etil will shield us now. We must be completely open to each other.#

Carefully, Obi-Wan dismantled his shielding. He never took it completely down -- always he retained a minimal degree of shielding around himself, and a tight degree of shielding around his innermost thoughts. That was the way it was supposed to be. But Qui-Gon had said to take all of his shielding down, and he did, even the inner shields that he had little practice in letting down because they always remained up.

The exercise was a test of his control, but Obi-Wan had been expecting it ever since reading the text on soul-bonds, and managed it finally.

When he was fully open, he let his concentration go, and realized then that Qui-Gon was having problems.

His master's own concentration was turned away from him, on Qui-Gon's own shielding. Obi-Wan probed delicately, trying to see what the source of the difficulty was.

He was felt. #Obi-Wan...# came the reproving response.

Obi-Wan saw the problem. His master had unshielded the outer layers of his mind, and had attempted to unshield the inner layers, but was up now against a stubborn blockage that would not move.

A feeling of resignation with welcome layered under it, and then, #...as long as you're here, you may as well help.#

Affection, love, happiness... if there were such a thing as a mental grin, Obi-Wan would have worn one. _Yes, master._

He visualized the blockage. It appeared as a wall made of crumbling stones set one on top of each other, marked by age with white scars and mossy growth. He felt his master's strength pushing against the stones, attempting to batter a way through the wall and knew, somehow, that force was the wrong approach. The barrier became stronger with the more of Qui-Gon's energy that was thrown at it. _Let me, master._

Qui-Gon paused, acknowledging his apprentice's request, and waited, gathering his strength for another attempt.

Obi-Wan reached out to the stones, feeling the heaviness of the one under his hands, and again, sensed that the whole wall was ready to collapse, that the stones themselves were tired of standing. _Let go,_ he soothed, unconcerned over whether he was talking to the stones, what the stones might represent, or to Qui-Gon himself. _You are weary. You do not need to stand any longer. You have done your duty, and done it well. It is time to let go._

He felt them begin to waver. _You have served your purpose. You can rest now,_ he crooned softly.

And then they tumbled, ever so slowly, the wall gently falling down before him.

#Thank you, Obi-Wan,# his master said. Qui-Gon continued the ritual, consciously setting the remainder of his shielding aside.

When he had finished, he turned his attention to Obi-Wan. #Now, padawan, we begin to master the emotional.#

Shields down, it was not so much an effort to join with his master's mind, as it was to keep some part of himself separate and unabsorbed. Obi-Wan struggled with that, floundering in the concept of how to keep his shields down while simultaneously maintaining his personal integrity.

#We will merge, must merge to complete this,# Qui-Gon reassured him. #Do not guard against it.#

_Is it safe then?_

#No. It is a risk, and one we must take.#

Obi-Wan acquiesced. He had been carefully holding himself together as best he could, and now he let that go.

Qui-Gon's emotions and the memories tied most strongly to those emotions were no longer only his master's, a separate thing to observe and remark upon on, but something else, something more.

Obi-Wan realized what as he touched on a previously hidden place, something that he had never seen before from his master, and fell into what could only be described as a memory of his own.

_Master?_ he managed weakly, before he was swept away entirely.

Part Twenty-One

He was in a dark, enclosed place. 'A mine', his memory whispered to him. And a desperate boy was standing opposite him.

"I have the transmitter," the boy said. "I can reactivate it. If I push myself up against the door, the explosion should open it. You might have time to evacuate the mine."

He felt a surge of pain that had nothing to do with the logic of the boy's suggestion. One life for many. It was a sacrifice he was prepared to make. A Jedi knew that such might be the price of their lives, and indeed, dying in such a way accounted for a large percentage of Jedi deaths.

"But you'll never survive the blast!" he exclaimed, horrified for the boy.

The boy reached into his tunic for the transmitter. Calm and balanced, he said, "Stand as far back as you can."

The boy was not a Jedi, would never be, here on Bandomeer. Was this banishment so terrible that death was preferable?

Or, his mind whispered, was the boy already so much of a Jedi that he knew his duty and would stick by it, even at his age, even when the Jedi themselves had rejected him and set him aside as not worthy of being part of their order? When Qui-Gon himself had set the boy aside repeatedly?

"No, Padawan. There has to be another way," he said, realizing only then that he had bonded with the young man, that the boy was a part of him and that was why he could never let Obi-Wan waste his life in such a fashion.

"There is no other way, and you know it," Obi-Wan said. "Now stand back."

Qui-Gon's heart began to tear. "No! I will not!" He wondered what he could say that would convince the boy. What words could he find that would change Obi-Wan's mind? He drew on the strength of their new bond, master to apprentice. "And I order you not to do this."

Time skittered forward. Nothing he said changed things one iota. Obi-Wan was determined, and the Force was with him. Qui-Gon could not use it to stop him.

It was a nightmare. He was losing his padawan, losing the first person he had been able to bond to since losing Xanatos to the Dark Side. He would not let the nightmare win. The nightmare...

He realized something. Xanatos' sign was on the seal panel for the door.

"Wait," he said. He drew on Obi-Wan's strength through the newfound bond, and envisioned the circle moving, meeting, becoming whole once more, as Obi-Wan had made him whole by finding a place in his heart when Qui-Gon had not been sure he had a heart left. Obi-Wan's sacrifice was not necessary. He would live, and so would Qui-Gon, and they could begin again together.

The past would meet the future and create the present. That was what mattered. Xanatos was past. Obi-Wan was now.

Obi-Wan.

He drifted up from the memory, no longer simply Qui-Gon's but his as well. He slowly recognized that he was himself, differentiated from his master, and asked softly, respectfully, _Is that how you truly feel about me, master?_

The reply came from nowhere, everywhere. Qui-Gon's mental voice surrounded him, completed him. #Yes, Obi-Wan. That and more.#

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's feelings swell around him, found Qui-Gon's pride and joy in him -- which had been there as early on as Bandomeer and had never diminished. It was an approval so global that it nearly stunned Obi-Wan.

#Is it such a surprise, my padawan?#

Before this moment, before they began this ritual, Obi-Wan would have made a polite, but essentially disbelieving, response. His master cared for him in a general sort of way, as he had to do. It was part of their bond, part of what made Qui-Gon his master, and it did not mean anything on the deep level where Obi-Wan felt the most rejected and unwanted.

Now... this approval touched all parts of him, warmed him all the way through. It was real, and made incredulous joy well up within him. Joy touched heavily with the pain he'd hid for so long, the pain that no longer applied, but demanded to be acknowledged.

He was met with his master's love and support, blanketed in it, until the pain had faded, and all of the tears that would have been shed, had they been fully in their bodies, had fallen.

_Thank you, master._

Qui-Gon's response was non-verbal, purely emotional, and Obi-Wan felt himself again being engulfed by his master's memories.

This time, he felt Qui-Gon with him, a bulwarking presence that helped him retain the distance from the memory to know that it was not his, but his master's.

He stared out at the blackness of space, mentally cataloguing the visible stars, while his heart burned with pain.

Behind him, his apprentice paced. "Why, Qui-Gon, why?"

"I do not know," he repeated again, hoping it would be enough this time, and knowing that it would not. Xanatos' trust did not extend this far, apparently. "The Council has made their decision. We must complete this mission first."

"The Council?" Xanatos pounced upon that word immediately. Yoda had told Qui-Gon not to reveal that this final mission was a test for his apprentice, to say only that they must complete it. Qui-Gon had said too much.

"The mission is necessary, and of course, mandated by the Council," Qui-Gon amended, trying to cover his slip. Not that he believed there was anything that needed hiding -- Xanatos was the perfect padawan, and would no doubt handle this mission with ease. His success would finally convince Yoda of what Qui-Gon already knew, that Xanatos was ready to be a Jedi knight.

He did not like keeping secrets from his apprentice, and liked it less still that so many obstacles had been thrown in Xanatos' way.

For when Xanatos became a knight, Qui-Gon intended to reveal the depths of his love to his apprentice, a love Xanatos already suspected, and that Qui-Gon thought he shared.

And then time twisted again, and they were no longer aboard the ship, but instead, in the battle-scarred mansion. Qui-Gon stood over Xanatos' fallen body, lightsaber in hand.

Xanatos had betrayed the Jedi, attempted to make war on a planet, then fought a costly civil war... and Qui-Gon had been forced to kill his apprentice's father.

He stared down at the still body of the man he loved, and his heart ached further. *Now* he understood what it had been trying to tell him, what everyone had been trying to tell him.

Xanatos had gone over to the Dark Side, a trip from which Jedi history taught that there was no return. And a Jedi, an apprentice ready to become a knight all but for his personal failings, would be a powerful force indeed for the Dark. One Qui-Gon had vowed his life to battle.

It was his duty to kill the man lying on the floor. His duty to kill the man he loved.

It was his soul tearing apart here. He wavered, searching for any sign of good left in Xanatos, for any sign of the man he knew Xanatos to be, for the love he had wanted to share until the end of his life...

And Xanatos laughed.

A bitter, hollow sound, with ugly edges that left Qui-Gon feeling sick.

"You can't do it, can you, old man? Because of the 'love' that you bear me. As if I would ever love you. As if I could ever love my father's murderer."

'Love' sounded like bantha fodder in Xanatos' mouth, a diseased twisted thing that Qui-Gon's mind flinched away from.

This was not love, was not what he had imagined, and something died in him then, something that might have been precious.

Xanatos picked himself up and ran out of the room.

And Qui-Gon stared at the place on the floor where Xanatos had been, where all that he had hoped for in love had been, seeing nothing until another opponent entered the room.

_Nooooo!_ Obi-Wan screamed, wanting to fight, wanting to do *something* to erase those terrible memories, but it was a memory, and there was nothing he could do. It was past, and the past could not be changed.

#Only dealt with,# Qui-Gon's quiet voice said. #I am sorry you had to see that, Obi-Wan. It is not one of the best moments in my life.#

_You survived..._

#With the knowledge that I was wrong, wrong about everything important.#

Obi-Wan sent his support to Qui-Gon, giving of himself as thoroughly as could, trying to show with that gift how much he loved his master, how deeply and true his feelings ran. _You told me before. I knew what had happened, but not how you felt. Master, I am so..._

#If you say that you're sorry, padawan, I shall be very upset with you.#

But his master's mind did not feel upset, it felt instead like he was being affectionately teasing, and Obi-Wan drew the memory of this morning around them for comfort.

Obi-Wan smiled into the pillow, feeling well-loved in the eternal moment of the morning, connected to his master, his love, with his fingers on Qui-Gon's arm.

#Yes, that was a good moment.#

_There will be more to come,_ Obi-Wan said, knowing it to be true. They had the rest of their lives.

Obi-Wan wanted to bring another good moment to the fore, to share more happiness with his master. But it was not a good memory surfacing between them now.

_Not that, master,_ Obi-Wan said, protesting the change back into strained, sorrowful memories.

#The difficult emotions and memories are the ones we most need to face. Like a Jedi must face fear, as a bonded couple, we must be able to face fear and other negative emotions in each other as well as ourselves.#

_Yes, master._

And then the memory took control.

He stood in the recessed alcove, and overheard the conversation between the young woman and the chancellor. Jedi senses and training picked it up. Good conscience and the same training told him that he should not listen -- but watching Qui-Gon for the past three years had shown him that a Jedi needed all of the information he could collect in order to make correct decisions.

He stilled himself, forgetting about the simple task his master had set him, of delivering a sealed message to the chancellor, and gave his attention to the dialogue taking place a few feet from him.

"No, Gila. I cannot do that. Tradition dictates..."

"Does tradition dictate that a man die because of an ancient law that only scholars honor?"

Dryly, the chancellor answered, "Yes, Gila. That is the *meaning* of tradition."

A snort came from the hallway, and then angry feet pounded past him.

Obi-Wan did not consider his errand, but ran after her immediately.

He caught up with her at the end of the hallway, staring out of the window there, tears in her eyes.

"Excuse me? Gila, is it? I couldn't help but hear you talking..."

"If you're going to tell me that my father's death is meant to be and that I should resign myself to it, save it. I don't want to hear it."

Obi-Wan stepped closer to her, examining her features. She had the blue hair and large eyes typical to her world, and he noticed also that she appeared to be only a few years older than he. Assuming that the people of this planet aged similarly to his own race. Obi-Wan hadn't completed all of his background reading for this mission, something he hoped Qui-Gon wouldn't find out about, at least, not before he'd finished it.

"What's wrong? What did your father do?" he asked.

"You don't know?" she asked, turning to truly look at him for the first time. Her eyes widened impossibly. "You're a Jedi, aren't you?"

"A Jedi apprentice, yes," Obi-Wan said, inserting his rank to let her know how little he truly could do.

"Then you can help me." Her blue eyes were filled with tears, and her face streaked with them. "Please, say you'll help. You must help. No one else will."

"My master would..."

"Don't you want to help me?" She was shedding large tears now.

Obi-Wan felt exceedingly helpless at the moment himself. He reached out to her with the Force, checking to see if there were something darker going on, some reason why he shouldn't help her, but instead, he felt just what she was saying -- she was desperately sad because her father was to be put to death.

"What can I do?" he asked.

His acceptance set events into emotions, and soon enough, he was before the king, pleading the case of Gila's father. Without Qui-Gon's assistance or knowledge, because Obi-Wan was sure he would disapprove of placing a single man's life above the good of the many, and perhaps, just a little, because Obi-Wan wanted to succeed and show his master that he was capable of handling the situation on his own.

"Your majesty, please spare his life," Obi-Wan said. "I would gladly take his place if I could."

The assembled court burst into hysterical laughter.

Even the king could not speak, although from Obi-Wan's position, close to the throne, it looked more like His Majesty was choking in an apoplectic fit.

He looked at Gila. "What did I say?"

Even she was smiling. "My father's 'crime' was..."

She was smirking at him. He could tell that she was smirking.

"What?"

A sense of shame and embarrassment was rising in him, and it didn't help any that the girl he was attempting to help looked as though she might burst into laughter herself. Laughter, he noted, that the people around him showed no signs of abating in.

"My father... my father..."

Obi-Wan waited, holding onto his patience with both hands.

She was definitely giggling now. "He... there was a security alert. And he was on his way to the garden, where the queen was holding the Summer's End Celebration. Women only, you know. It's supposed to be a very..." she looked at Obi-Wan and laughed. "A very sacred ceremony."

"And?"

"And, well, you see, he ran into the palace's security detachment. But they were droids, not people. So when they strip-searched him, well..."

Obi-Wan understood. The droids must have been misprogrammed.

"Well, just what do Jedi wear under their robes, anyway?" And then she was gone, doubled over, another victim of the laughter.

Obi-Wan knew his face was red, knew he'd just made a laughingstock of himself and probably the Jedi as well. He couldn't understand what the problem was. *So her father appeared naked at a garden party. What's so funny?*

And then his master's figure strode through the crowd, and Obi-Wan felt his blush disappear in the anticipation of Qui-Gon's disappointment.

He was not wrong.

"You did not complete the errand I sent you on."

Errand? What errand? Then he remembered. "No, master."

Raised eyebrows, and then, "If you had completed it, none of this would have come to pass. If you had talked to me about your concerns, none of this would have come to pass. Instead, you have created a major diplomatic incident through your lack of trust and impatience. I would like you to return to our ship and meditate on these things."

Return. To the ship. They had quarters in the palace, a very luxurious suite that he and Qui-Gon were sharing. To be told to return to the red Republic cruiser assigned to the Jedi for their negotiations... He had failed very badly indeed. Humiliation set deeply into his soul, and despite being 16 now, he wanted to cry, to beg forgiveness of his master, to hide.

But he did none of these things. Instead, he replied, as he must, "Yes, master," and left the room.

And, then, suddenly, Obi-Wan was no longer inside the memory, and he was being held close and comforted. It was a mental sensation, not a physical one, and all the more fulfilling because of that. It was all the solace he had not been offered at the time, and needed as badly as he needed air.

#It's all right, padawan. It's over now. That was six years ago.#

_What did I do, master? What was so terrible that you had to push me away?_

#Push you away? Obi-Wan...#

A near crushing weight of concern descended upon him. _Master?_

#I had to send you away,# Qui-Gon explained. #Once the king recovered, he would have sentenced you to death as well, for blasphemy in publicly stating your intention to commit sacrilege against the state religion. I knew I could handle the situation, as their religion was more form and habit than true belief, but I did not wish to be forced to bargain with your life at stake as well. My anxiety for you would have clouded my abilities.#

_You care about me?_

#I do, Obi-Wan.#

Obi-Wan felt his master's sadness and regret that such a question need even be asked.

#I never meant to cause you such lasting pain, love. It was necessary that I correct you, but I would not, did not and do not ever want, to scar you.#

Obi-Wan basked in the endearment. It was the second time it had slipped out, and he cherished it. _Master, what exactly was everyone laughing about?_

#You *still* don't know?#

_No, master,_ Obi-Wan said, projecting an air of innocence. He was rewarded with laughter, and his heart eased, as the pain of the past was finally soothed.

Part Twenty-Two

The sharing of their memories had freed emotions, emotions that now moved between them without interference. Obi-Wan let them settle over him, accepting them as best he could and letting them in.

_Have we begun then, master?_ Obi-Wan asked, sensing that this was the real ritual of mastering the emotional, and what had come before was only the release of what had been kept long hidden.

#Yes, padawan,# came the answer, echoing softly through their bond.

Obi-Wan wondered what to do, and the answer came back to him immediately. #We sift the emotions and master them.#

His master's presence surrounded him, and they were almost one again, Qui-Gon guiding and Obi-Wan following.

His master brought Obi-Wan's feelings of rejection and abandonment to the fore, plainly exposed for the both of them to see. Obi-Wan needed no reacquaintance with them, but Qui-Gon examined them as though this was the first time he had really seen them. Every moment was laid out, from the very beginning of Obi-Wan's relationship with Qui-Gon, when he had desperately hoped that the Jedi master would take him on as a pupil, and had lost the chance with his own angry temper in the duel against Bruck Chun.

His entire history was laid bare, each instance when he had not felt good enough or needed. It was a very long procession of moments and memories, up to the worst moment of all, only a few days ago, when Obi-Wan had known that he was truly abandoned and lay crying in his room for the loss that had taken nine years to come and hurt no less for it.

It left Obi-Wan stricken, as though every event, every feeling had just taken place right then.

He wasn't good enough. He could never be good enough. All of the times he had failed to win Qui-Gon's approval burned into his head as personal faults of his own, reasons why he should never be a Jedi at all. He could handle his daily feelings, but this, all together, was too much.

He felt himself shattering, falling away from Qui-Gon, barriers beginning to rise between himself and the pain.

He should accept, should deal with the pain, but there was too much of it, and he had no shielding right now, no ability to keep these feelings from swamping his own center unless he protected himself first. Acceptance could only take place from a position of strength.

#Or a position of utter weakness.#

It was Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan's thoughts were unguarded, his mental voice a wail that he detested even as he was helpless to prevent it. _Why are you speaking to me? I don't deserve it._ *Can't bear it. Can't bear having him speak to me when I am nothing to him. Too much hope. Too much wanting something I can't have. Hurts so much.* _If you ever cared about me, please don't hurt me again._

He felt Qui-Gon's shock, and interpreted it as yet another failure. He'd done the wrong thing, said the wrong thing, and disappointed the Jedi master. Obi-Wan burrowed deeper into a protective shell, panic easing some as his shields snapped into place around him.

#Obi-Wan, please...#

He trembled. What did Qui-Gon want? Wasn't it enough that Obi-Wan had seen his own worthlessness at last? Did the master want him to confess it as well? To openly admit his lackings? He couldn't. Not without disintegrating completely.

Qui-Gon probed the fragile shields with a delicate touch. They were brittle, thrown up in a hurry as the last defense of a mind that had been pushed too far. It was not pain his Obi-Wan was experiencing, not anything so pale and light as that, but an all-consuming despair. And he, Qui-Gon, was the cause of it. They'd set their shielding aside for this part of the soul bonding ritual, and Obi-Wan had had nothing to cling to when he had been faced with the thing he feared more than anything else. Qui-Gon's rejection.

Obi-Wan could have clung to him, but painfully, Qui-Gon realized, the young man had not possessed the confidence to do so.

Did not believe enough in his master's love and care for him to reach for it when he most needed it, despite the reassurance and affection they had shared earlier.

#Oh, my Obi-Wan,# he whispered, but his padawan was beyond hearing.

He had caused this; it was his to fix.

If he could.

Qui-Gon reached out to the battered young mind in hiding. He could break through those shields. Could draw on the strength of their bond as master and apprentice and order his padawan to drop them. And he could, and Obi-Wan would. His padawan would obey. At an even greater cost to his savaged emotions.

Or Qui-Gon could take a lesson from his apprentice, and meet the barricade with warmth and kindness, as Obi-Wan had done to his own mental wall.

It would mean facing his own vulnerabilities, exposing himself to the mocking laughter that awaited his declaration of love. His memories told him that love brought only pain.

But the soul bond promised hope.

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, building an image of his padawan's state. He saw Obi-Wan as the boy he had been at 13, huddled into himself, grasping his knees against his chest to hold in the pain. Walls as thin as an eggshell surrounded him, shielding that would not protect against a determined probe.

Qui-Gon remembered his own wall inside, and how it had crumpled at Obi-Wan's touch when all the force he could master against it had failed. Obi-Wan had thrown this barrier up to protect himself. Force would only be met with resistance, as the mind tried to protect itself.

As well it should. His padawan had been deeply hurt today. Qui-Gon grieved, then knelt before that thin shielding, and opened his heart fully to the emotion he had only begun experiencing again when he realized that Obi-Wan was already there, in his heart.

#I love you, my Obi-Wan,# he said gently, not daring to even touch the thin shielding. A great sorrow filled him. #I am as frightened of love as you are of rejection. If you have a flaw, mine is surely greater, for I am guilty of causing yours. You are innocent, Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan. And I love you.#

It was true, it was too true, but still Obi-Wan did not respond.

#Obi-Wan, you must listen. I *need* you to help me. To aid me in understanding this new emotion. Obi-Wan, please.# He was crying, he realized, dimly aware of his physical body. He could not stop himself, and he felt the desperate, wild pain as he realized that he might have lost Obi-Wan for good. If he were so far broken, catatonic in his own mind...

#Oh, please...#

_Qui-Gon?_ came the faint reply, still through shields.

But it was a reply. #Obi-Wan.# He put everything he could into that name, everything that Obi-Wan was to him, everything he wanted him to be.

Obi-Wan's shielding wavered. _Do you mean that?_

#Entirely.#

The barrier fell, and Qui-Gon was through the place where it had been, gathering Obi-Wan close, before even a heartbeat had passed. #My love, my dearest love.# He sent tendrils of that caring through Obi-Wan, not surrounding him with it, but thoroughly filling him with it instead. #Don't ever leave me again.#

_How could you love me? It's not possible. Not possible. I... you don't want me._

Qui-Gon felt the pain cut through him again, and knew it was only his fault, the result of the coldness he had adopted, the pride he had been unwilling to foster in Obi-Wan lest it turn into arrogance, the love he had forgotten how to show. He gave that all to Obi-Wan now, letting his padawan see his failings. #You have been an excellent padawan to me. You are capable, ahead of your year-mates in many areas, especially your physical skills. And your insight has grown.# He brought up how he had felt while reading Obi-Wan's poem on wisdom, the pleasure he had taken in Obi-Wan's understanding. #You found your own answer, one I did not expect. And it was good.#

He sent his love and approval to Obi-Wan as well, attempting to make up for years of neglect in one moment. Qui-Gon knew it would not be enough, could not possibly be enough... but if Obi-Wan could forgive him, then there would be an equal or greater amount of years to redress that wrong.

_Oh, Light, I need to believe that,_ Obi-Wan cried out, burying himself inside Qui-Gon's embrace. _Please let this be true._

The amount of doubt staggered Qui-Gon, and he tightened his grip on his beloved Obi-Wan. #It is true,# he reassured, with everything that he had in him. #I love you, and I will never stop loving you.#

_Never?_

#Never,# Qui-Gon reassured him firmly.

When Qui-Gon attempted to open his eyes, he found them gummy from shed tears. He brushed them clear, and then looked up.

Master Etil appeared to have fallen asleep in her chair. Obi-Wan -- Qui-Gon turned his head -- was sitting, looking at him neutrally, as though expecting that words spoken inside the privacy of their minds would not and could not be acknowledged out loud. His padawan sat there with perfect posture, allowing no trace of the internal struggle he had gone through to show in his bearing.

Qui-Gon's heart hurt all over again. What he wanted was to draw Obi-Wan close to him, fully into his lap as though he were a little boy, and physically reassure him that he was loved, and would always be loved.

But not with Etil there. No matter how 'away' she seemed to be.

Qui-Gon stood up, followed an instant later by Obi-Wan.

Etil didn't move. Perhaps she really had fallen asleep.

He forced himself to say the words out loud, although they tore at him, and were yet another rip in the already torn fabric of Obi-Wan's self worth. "Come, padawan. Let us return to our quarters."

Qui-Gon attempted to reach out to Obi-Wan on the short walk back to their quarters, and attempted to again as they waited for dinner to be brought, but his padawan had reshielded against him, and Qui-Gon was at a loss for words.

Obi-Wan's concentration was elsewhere, fixated on the concept of nothingness, and Qui-Gon's pride in his student's accomplishment was equally matched by an exasperation that Obi-Wan should choose to perfect that skill now.

He should have ignored Etil's presence, and acted then, before Obi-Wan had a chance to re-barrier himself.

They finished their meal -- it had grown quite late while they moved through the ritual. As Obi-Wan stood up, Qui-Gon halted him with a look. "Please join me again tonight."

"Yes, master," was the soft reply, and it said nothing more to Qui-Gon than any of Obi-Wan's thoughts had since they had raised their shields against the outside world.

And each other.

Qui-Gon's trepidation came as much from being separated from his bonded, as far his concern for Obi-Wan. He was incomplete, and he needed to finish what they had begun back in Etil's quarters.

He felt a small sob from his padawan, and was at the door to the bathroom as Obi-Wan exited it.

"Your turn, master," Obi-Wan said, and slipped by him before Qui-Gon could question him.

Qui-Gon watched him go, and determined that he would not let Obi-Wan escape so easily. After he'd had his bath.

It was even later before Qui-Gon returned to his bedchamber. His heart lifted as his eyes picked out Obi-Wan's form against the backdrop of the bed.

Qui-Gon sat down on the bed, then laid back.

Obi-Wan was turned away from him, the long line of his spine facing Qui-Gon.

"Come here, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly.

His padawan obeyed, reluctantly turning over and settling himself closer to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan close to him, needing to feel Obi-Wan against him, needing the physical counterpart to their emotional trial. #I love you, Obi-Wan,# he said, hoping his padawan would hear it, would let the thought in.

And Obi-Wan began to cry, in painful gulping sobs that shook his body.

Qui-Gon pulled the bed covering over his padawan's body, and wrapped him closer, trying to calm the inner chill with outer warmth. "What's wrong?" #Let me see, love.#

The sobbing did not cease, but Obi-Wan relaxed his mind, and finally, they were fully together, both mentally and physically.

A wash of satisfaction rushed over Qui-Gon. He had missed that greatly. #Thank you, love.# Tenderly, he examined Obi-Wan's mind, as he also shared his love with Obi-Wan.

The sobbing paused, as Obi-Wan looked up at him. _You do mean it, then?_

#Of course, I do, love. I always speak the truth to you.# His mouth twitched. #It does appear that I have been frequently guilty of not sharing enough of the truth with you, however. I will work to change that, although I suspect that our bond will allow few secrets to remain.#

_I love you, master,_ Obi-Wan admitted, the words sounding as though they'd been torn from him.

#I know,# Qui-Gon said, and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with a kiss.

Part Twenty-Three

Obi-Wan responded to Qui-Gon's kiss with a desperate passion, calming only when Qui-Gon did not break from the kiss, but instead, leaned further over him. The feeling of his master's weight against his body was soothing...

...and not quite enough. He moved closer, into the shelter that was Qui-Gon.

His master wrapped his free arm around Obi-Wan, pressing them lightly together. He looked down at Obi-Wan from only a few inches distance. #Better?#

Obi-Wan reached up, his hand sliding over Qui-Gon's cheek. _More._

This time, unlike the day before, Qui-Gon obliged. His lips met Obi-Wan's face gently, tasting the tears his apprentice had shed, then moved down to Obi-Wan's mouth, exploring it with tender determination.

It should have been arousing. It should have reminded him of all the sexual thoughts he'd been having about his master.

Instead, Obi-Wan wanted to cry again. He needed this comfort of his body as well as of his mind, and what really mattered in the stillness of this moment was that Qui-Gon was here, and he would not leave, and that he loved Obi-Wan fully.

It was Obi-Wan who had to break the kiss, who could not take any more of it. He ducked away from Qui-Gon's mouth and buried his head in his master's neck as the tears began to flow again. _I can't stop crying. Why am I crying?_

And his master, far from chiding Obi-Wan for his lack of control, accepted the change, and curled himself around his padawan. #Perhaps because you have attempted to control your pain in the past, but never fully dealt with it?# he suggested. #Much as I had not dealt with my reactions to... with my own reactions.#

_I should stop. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' I'm not being a proper Jedi,_ Obi-Wan managed, the tears still flowing freely, soaking Qui-Gon's bare shoulder. He couldn't stop, but he should. He should.

#When you have properly dealt with the emotion, you will find peace, yes. You have not yet.# Qui-Gon instructed his padawan, knowing that this was as crucial as any battle they had fought with lightsabers. #Listen to me. You must feel the emotion. Remind yourself of your pain, padawan. When you understand it and realize that there is no reason for such pain, then you will have begun to deal with it.#

_But there is a reason,_ Obi-Wan protested.

#Not for this. You are not rejected, you are accepted. You are not worthless, you are precious. You are not a failure, you are well on your way to becoming a Jedi knight. You are not unloved, you are very much loved.#

Obi-Wan did not reply, though his tears continued to fall.

Qui-Gon's mental voice gentled, and he stroked Obi-Wan's unbound hair. He plucked Obi-Wan's braid back from his padawan's face and tucked it behind Obi-Wan's ear. #You need to understand that, my Obi-Wan. It is the truth.#

No reply came, and Qui-Gon continued caressing Obi-Wan's head, letting his padawan cry himself into exhaustion. #Do you understand, Obi-Wan?#

_I'll try, master,_ came the sleepy reply.

"I'm sure you will," Qui-Gon murmured, lips moving against Obi-Wan's hair, knowing that his apprentice could no longer hear him, "But until you do, we will not be able to move on."

A strident voice broke into his dream. Obi-Wan had been sunning himself on the marble floor, fascinated by the intricate patterning of the tiles, when he was interrupted by that noise. He immediately looked up, found Qui-Gon standing near him, and reached out to touch his master, tickling Qui-Gon's ankle. Qui-Gon, however, was playing the stoic Jedi master and didn't respond. Obi-Wan didn't mind.

"So you thought you'd sneak out?"

A Jedi master hedging was not a pretty sound. Obi-Wan cherished it. "I did not... I thought you were asleep."

"Right. I could have been in a comatose state, overloaded by the emotions I was trying to shield, and you didn't even check on me?"

"Ah..."

"Never mind. I don't care about that. What I do care about is your apprentice. I *told* you he was fragile. And you went forward anyway. Now his lack of self-confidence has broken open, and if it doesn't get fixed, the both of you are liable to spend the rest of your lives under the care of the healers, wasting *my* time because you didn't listen to me the first time around. Do you know how irritating this is?"

"Um..."

*Who was speaking?*, Obi-Wan wondered from his position on the floor. He tried to open his eyes and see, but the light was too bright, blinding him. Who did the voices belong to? His master, certainly, and... Master Etil? It had to be her. No one else would ever talk to his master like that.

Deeply exhausted, Obi-Wan curled up into a ball, body curving around his master's feet and ignored the argument. His master would protect him. He would be safe. And then, after Qui-Gon defeated Etil, they could go do battle with the Ewok Sith lord. That would be fun.

"You didn't master the emotional. If you think you did, you're wrong. Okay, so you finally opened up. I'm happy for you. But the boy..."

"Whom you said would be no problem," Qui-Gon reminded her helpfully.

"No problem getting at his emotions," she corrected. "There's a big problem *with* his emotions."

"I know."

"Good. I'm glad all my screaming hasn't gone totally unheard. What are you *doing* about the problem?"

"It's not mine to do anything with. Obi-Wan must understand that he is accepted, must believe it for himself. I cannot influence that."

"Sure you can. You can support him, and get him to understand the truth. Presuming," her voice became even sharper, "that he isn't right in his doubts."

"I love him," Qui-Gon said simply. "There is no reason to doubt."

Obi-Wan clutched the comment to himself, feeling wonderfully secure and loved, then fell more deeply into his dreaming. He was very tired. He took himself to a place where there were no voices and his dreams would be quiet enough to let him sleep through them.

When he woke again, Qui-Gon was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, and looking down at him with an amused smile.

"Did I oversleep, master?" Obi-Wan asked muzzily.

"Only in the sense that I allowed you to sleep yourself out. Yesterday was a trying day."

Obi-Wan smiled up at his master. Qui-Gon loved him, he knew that.

#Yes, I do.#

_I love you, my master._

#Then all is as it should be.# Qui-Gon stood, his robes flowing smoothly with him. "I think today should be a day of rest. To meditate and return to our regular routines, so that we can find balance with the emotions of yesterday."

"Yes, master." _Can we be together?_ Obi-Wan asked wistfully. _I would like to be with you._

"Yes, padawan, we may do that."

"Thank you, master."

Obi-Wan had awakened in time for lunch. Surprisingly, Qui-Gon felt few of the doubts in Obi-Wan that he had felt there the night before. Even in his sleep, Obi-Wan had clung to Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon's dreams had been full of him.

Perhaps that was the reason for Obi-Wan's new confidence -- some subconscious reassurance in his sleep that Qui-Gon didn't remember providing.

_Perhaps, master,_ Obi-Wan said quietly, his manner solemn as usual. _I know I had a dream..._

Qui-Gon caught the images his apprentice projected, the tiled floor, Obi-Wan curled around him and the Ewok Sith lord. He chuckled. #I don't see how that would be reassuring, padawan. I must warn you that sharpened sticks are very painful when stabbed into your calves and feet. It is quite difficult to fight when you cannot stand.#

_I *have* seen Yoda practice, master._

#So you have.#

Qui-Gon led the way to the dining hall, Obi-Wan close by his side. It felt precisely right to have Obi-Wan there, to know he could count on the other man's strength. On the solidity and loyalty of his padawan, his bonded and his love.

Obi-Wan threw a startled glance at Qui-Gon.

"Is something wrong, padawan?"

"No, master."

Qui-Gon didn't believe that. #Would you have a different answer if I asked you this way?#

_No, master._

While Obi-Wan's response felt true, Qui-Gon knew that there was something more Obi-Wan wasn't saying. The look alone would have told him that, if he did not have the link to his apprentice's emotions and thoughts. #But...?#

Obi-Wan did not answer.

Qui-Gon sent reassurance. #You can tell me, padawan. I love you, I will not reject you no matter what you tell me.#

Softly, in a whisper that was only meant for Qui-Gon's ears, Obi-Wan asked, "Would your answer be different if you said it this way?"

*What answer?* Qui-Gon asked himself. Then, *he means...*

_Would you say you loved me if you had to say it out loud?_

#Would you like me to announce it before the Council?# Qui-Gon asked conversationally. #If that's what you'd like, I will.#

_Just out loud would be fine, master._

Obi-Wan was embarrassed by the suggestion, but Qui-Gon thought that it might be a good idea. "Eventually," he said, leaving the easier communication of mind speech behind, "the full Council will have to know. A soul bond is not something to keep hidden."

*Unless we fail,* came the thought.

"Then, my love, the council will certainly have to know."

Obi-Wan looked up at him.

*That* glance was considerably more than startled, and Qui-Gon hid his amusement as best he could. "Yes, Obi-Wan? And out loud, please."

The whisper that came then was only technically out loud, but Qui-Gon let the volume, or lack thereof, pass. "Master, you -- you called me your love."

"Yes, I did, because that is what you are -- my love. I *love* you, Obi-Wan."

The comment did not go unnoticed as they passed into the dining hall, but the looks they drew were more approving than surprised. It seemed as though Qui-Gon had been the last to realize how much he loved his apprentice.

Except for, perhaps, that apprentice himself.

Part Twenty-Four

"I apologize for not believing in you, master," Obi-Wan said, as they sat down at a table.

The look Qui-Gon gave him was full of affection and forgiveness. "It seems I have given you every reason not to believe in me by failing to tell you of or show my confidence in you."

*Not so. Never so.*

The mental comment earned him the furrowing of his master's eyebrows.

"Must I say everything out loud, master? I... I am not used to having my every thought being clearly read. It seems disrespectful to say... to question you."

"Yes, padawan. We must. It seems a great deal has been kept hidden between us, and as you so wisely pointed out a few moments ago, it is time we lent those unexpressed concerns the solidity of words."

"Yes, master." Obi-Wan was resigned, if not fully convinced. It *had* been his idea, after all. Wasn't there a proverb about being careful what you asked for?

Qui-Gon gave him another look, but changed the topic rather than delivering a reprimand. "I spoke with Master Etil this morning. She believes, and I agree, that we have not yet completed the stage of Mastering the Emotional."

"Because of me, master," Obi-Wan said. It was not a question. His master had dealt with his memories the previous day, as well a master might.

"Do you believe that I love you, Obi-Wan? That you are worthwhile?"

When it was said like that, coming from that beloved countenance, how could he disbelieve? "You know my heart better than I do, master."

Qui-Gon shook his head gently. "No, padawan. Your heart believes sometimes, and doubts sometimes. I am asking what *you* believe."

Neither of them were paying much attention to the meal set before them. Obi-Wan pondered the question while attempting to eat. What *did* he really believe? Looking at his master, and his master's expression, he found that he was suddenly quite certain that he believed "that you might thump me if I don't start speaking out loud."

"Very perceptive, padawan. And?"

"I think I believe that this is a miracle that must eventually disappear."

Qui-Gon examined him for a long moment. "I see."

He stood, and reflexively, Obi-Wan stood along with him.

Obi-Wan felt the Force pulse outward from Qui-Gon, and stared at his master in bewilderment. If the pulse hadn't asked for silence, Obi-Wan might have questioned Qui-Gon. The twinkle in his master's eyes was ominous. The last time he'd seen that particular look, they'd ended up having to flee under heavy fire into a rioting city. Qui-Gon had a *very* odd sense of humor at times.

When the dining hall had quieted, Qui-Gon began to speak. "I would like you to know that I have formed a soul bond with my padawan and my love, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I commend him to you as an accomplished young man who will make an excellent knight. Thank you."

And then Qui-Gon was sitting down again, smiling widely at Obi-Wan, who, mouth gaping, stumbled back into his seat.

"Now what do you believe, padawan?"

*Mass insanity. That's what I believe in.*

"Obi-Wan?"

He glanced around, still fiercely blushing. A number of people were still looking at him and his master. There was no doubt that everyone had heard that announcement. "I..." he choked, "I think I believe you now, master."

"Good. Now eat your food."

By the time they had finished their quiet meal, Obi-Wan *did* believe it. Everyone had heard it. It couldn't be simply a phantasm of his mind. It had happened.

He felt a happy little glow inside.

And then his master spoke again, quietly, just to him. "Now is probably not the time to remind you that public acknowledgement of a relationship does not guarantee that the relationship will work."

It stung, but Obi-Wan thought about the statement instead of reacting to it. If now was not the time, why then had his master said that? Because Qui-Gon wanted him to think about it. Wanted him to realize -- what? That this was only the beginning? That there were trials yet to face? Or that love wasn't the answer to everything?

"Yes, padawan," Qui-Gon replied softly, almost sadly, and Obi-Wan knew from their bond that his master meant all of them, but most especially the last.

Obi-Wan remembered what Master Etil had said on the subject of love, and his expression screwed up into a thoughtful grimace. He hadn't quite understood it, not in the place inside himself where realities were stored, but he had taken the words in and knew that Etil had meant them. "You don't think love is important, master?"

"It's important, yes. Like the handle on your lightsaber."

"But the handle isn't that important. I chose mine because of how it looks."

Qui-Gon had finished his meal, and was concentrating fully on Obi-Wan now. "But without a handle, you would not be able to hold the lightsaber, and you would have nowhere to put the generating components."

"Yes, master."

"But you're not wrong, either."

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, confused.

"What makes your lightsaber function?"

That was an easy question. Obi-Wan could have given step-by-step instructions on how to put a lightsaber together at a dead run from the aforementioned rioting city. He'd done it, too. Or repaired one, at any rate. "The components inside it."

"What makes a relationship work?"

He hadn't thought of it quite that way. He thought of his relationship with Qui-Gon. What was it based on? Love, yes. To some degree. Their master-apprentice bond linked them together, and Obi-Wan had known for a very long time through it that Qui-Gon cared about him.

Did that count?

"Does it?" Qui-Gon asked gently. "Was it the bond that kept you with me when you felt rejected by me? Is that why you have trusted me and obeyed me for so long?"

How many times had he felt rejected? Obi-Wan couldn't count them all, not without diverting a great deal of conscious thought onto the topic. But he knew how he'd felt then, had been forcibly reminded of how it felt yesterday. Those were the times when their bond had mattered the least to him, because he hadn't believed in it. He'd questioned at those times whether Qui-Gon really cared for him, and whether the bond was simply an inconvenience, whether *he* was simply an inconvenience that Qui-Gon would rather do without.

"No, master," Obi-Wan said finally. "Not love."

"What then?"

Obi-Wan didn't know what to say. "Habit?"

"Yes, padawan. That's one name for it."

"For what, master?"

"For the accumulation of trust and commitment that causes a relationship to continue to work even when there is no handle, when love has temporarily disintegrated."

"But, master, a relationship without love!" He cut himself short.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Well, what would be the point, master?"

#You are very young, my Obi-Wan.#

The thought was fond, but Obi-Wan blushed anyway. "Not that young, master."

"Young enough to believe in love as an all-conquering influence. Which it is not, although it does have great power."

"Will you explain then, master, what you mean? About relationships?"

Qui-Gon stood again, and Obi-Wan looked around a bit warily before following him to his feet this time.

"We are done with our meal," his master said, watching him with amusement. "I do not plan to make another public announcement."

*Good.*

Qui-Gon chuckled, but left the dining hall, calmly addressing Obi-Wan as though nothing had occurred. "I am no expert in relationships. You are the first person in years with whom I've managed a sustained rapport. But it seems to me that a strong relationship must be based upon the willingness of the people in it to commit to it and continue it no matter what trials or difficulties may occur."

Obi-Wan looked up, seeing the long, dark cloak with the hood folded back, and studied the profile of his master's face. "No matter what, master? Isn't that, well, risky?"

"Yet another reason to choose your partner very carefully, padawan."

"So if a relationship is a commitment, then love is..."

"Something to cherish and hold very dear. I did not say a handle was unnecessary or undesirable."

"Yes, master."

As they approached their quarters, Obi-Wan began thinking of something else. A topic that kept coming to his mind, all the more strongly now that he had spent two nights in Qui-Gon's bed. And shared such kisses between them. Mastering the physical. "Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan grinned as the door shut behind them. "Thank you, master."

"Padawan..." Qui-Gon growled.

"What, master?" Obi-Wan asked innocently. "You did not mean that we should complete the next stage of the ritual tonight?"

"We cannot continue until we have mastered the emotional."

"My doubts are gone." _Look._

Qui-Gon clasped Obi-Wan's shoulders lightly, the better to complete their connection, and closed his eyes. He explored his padawan gently...

_That's the idea I'm *trying* to get across,_ Obi-Wan commented impishly.

#Hush, Obi-Wan.#

Qui-Gon suppressed his own thoughts on the subject with strict control, and returned to his exploration. Something *had* changed in his apprentice. Obi-Wan's fear of rejection remained, but his confidence in Qui-Gon had grown. Qui-Gon wasn't sure, however, whether that meant they had made enough progress. *If Obi-Wan's fear of rejection is fear of me, then no. But such a fear is not easily subdued...*

_I could meditate, master,_ Obi-Wan offered.

His padawan's eagerness was touching. If it were not echoed in him, Qui-Gon could smile at it. But he felt the same drive toward completion of their bond, and knew that it was not just personal whim that demanded this. They needed to continue the bond, and master it. Before it mastered them.

"We shall both meditate, padawan," Qui-Gon said, not removing his hands. "I believe we can overcome this barrier." *I also believe we _must_ overcome it.*

"We will, master."

Obi-Wan laid out the mats, and they knelt together, no more than a breath apart.

*We will overcome this,* Obi-Wan thought. *Or I will go stark raving mad.*

"Unfortunately, Obi-Wan, that is one of the possibilities."

Part Twenty-Five

Master Qui-Gon believed Obi-Wan to be afraid of rejection.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he believed at the moment. Which was why he was meditating on that topic. With all due obedience to his master, and with an earnest desire to put this topic behind him so that they could move on. He thought perhaps that he could, that such feelings didn't matter to him as they once had, but he must be certain in order to pass Qui-Gon's scrutiny.

He thought about rejection and not being good enough. Those feelings related all the way back to the proving grounds of the Jedi Academy. Failure had been an all too possible reality then, and everyone had wanted to succeed, and be chosen as a padawan. And all of those students who were not chosen, and who drew nearer and nearer to the age of thirteen, lived with dread coiling inside them. That dread was only partially relieved in the exercises and demonstrations intended to show their skills to prospective masters, but reignited every time they failed. For it was only the failures who were left behind, and their desperation increased each day.

It was little wonder that he'd had so much difficulty keeping his temper and reining in his emotions then -- the atmosphere for the twelve-year-olds was full of pressure, and while their teachers might stress the will of the Force, every initiate there had known the truth, that they had less and less time every day before they would be sent away, denied what they had been training their entire lives for. Their teachers were right -- acceptance was the key, but few who could accept despite that crushing pressure remained until they were thirteen. Those few were meant to be Jedi.

Obi-Wan thought about his knighthood then. He'd spent over a decade as a student, and would spend at least a decade as a padawan. To fail the next step would truly mean the waste of his life. And yet, he felt less pressure now. The barrier between him and knighthood was something that could be overcome by his own skills and abilities, not one dependent on his age. Qui-Gon would not suddenly turn his back on Obi-Wan because Obi-Wan had passed such an artificial marker of development as his birthday.

And indeed, his master could never turn his back on him again.

The buoyancy of that knowledge, of the soul bond and of his master's love for him soothed the pain of that early rejection. It had happened, it was done now, but at last, he was accepted, and that would not go away. He would be loved and cared for even if he grew older, even if he were not perfect.

Right then, Obi-Wan understood something. *That* was what he had tried to be for Qui-Gon. The perfect padawan. So that he could control his situation and would never be rejected again.

*And it didn't work either. I was sent away for different reasons.* he thought, remembering how Qui-Gon had distanced himself from him after learning that Obi-Wan had deeper feelings for his master. *I was sent away because Qui-Gon could not deal with my emotions due to Xanatos.*

He'd spent years trying to prevent the humiliating rejection he feared from coming, and it had happened anyway, through events that were only marginally under his control. There was irony in that, and a lesson to be learned about the usefulness of control, but Obi-Wan left it alone for a later time.

He had been forced out of control of his life, and while he lacked control, everything had changed, and only now was there a true possibility of his never being rejected again.

A possibility, because he and his master still had to complete the soul bonding.

He was at peace with that. The soul bonding would succeed if they were ready for it, and if it did not, then the situation was no longer in his control.

And he was beginning to think that 'out-of-control' signified something good.

Obi-Wan surfaced from his meditation, opening his eyes. The lights had been partially dimmed, but as he turned his head, he could see Qui-Gon kneeling next to him, still meditating.

Quietly, Obi-Wan stood, rolled up his mat, and then put it away. He had settled his mind. He was at rest with his emotions. Now... perhaps some preparation for the evening ahead was in order?

Grinning, he took himself off to the bathroom.

When Obi-Wan returned, freshly bathed and without his cloak or outer tunic, Qui-Gon had finished his own meditation, and was standing by a Force-shielded window, studying the view of the Temple gardens.

"Master, I have finished my meditations."

Without turning, Qui-Gon answered, "Yes, I am aware of that. You seem much refreshed."

Obi-Wan joined his master, standing just at Qui-Gon's elbow, not too close, but not so far away that he could not read every expression on the other man's face, or reach out to touch him if he so chose. "I think I am only now beginning to understand some things."

#May I?#

Obi-Wan nodded, and stood still, opening himself. He did not have to with the soul bond still pulsating rawly between them, but he needed to show his willingness. _Yes, master._

And then Qui-Gon was inside his mind, testing Obi-Wan's new insight. He searched for feelings of worthlessness, for the emotions which had done Obi-Wan in the previous day, and found instead healing scars.

#I am proud of you, my padawan.# And then Qui-Gon was adding his own balm to the places where Obi-Wan had been had been so badly hurt, encouraging their healing.

Obi-Wan leaned into that soft mental touch, only to catch himself against his master's arm, as his body leaned forward as well.

For a moment, Obi-Wan felt embarrassed as he stepped away, then he couldn't understand why he'd felt embarrassed. He'd had a moment of weakness, a temporary loss of control, and Qui-Gon knew, and Obi-Wan would work to correct it in the future. That was all there was to the issue, and chiding himself over it would add no benefit to the correction, any more than Qui-Gon openly reprimanding him for his slip would. They both knew his lapse, and nothing further needed to be said.

#Precisely, Obi-Wan.# Qui-Gon's mind glowed with approval. "I believe," he said in his deep voice, "that we have mastered the emotional."

Obi-Wan glowed as well. _Then we can work on mastering the physical._

"So we can." An eyebrow arched. Mildly, "If you feel you're ready?"

Obi-Wan gave him a disbelieving look.

"I thought so." Qui-Gon chuckled and held out his hand, but when he spoke, his tone was perfectly level again, and his eyes quite serious. "Shall we?"

Obi-Wan looked at that hand, and all that it implied, looked at his master, at *Qui-Gon*, from his long, tied-back hair, to his thick cloak that promised safety and shelter even as it disguised the lines of his master's body, down to... Obi-Wan swallowed heavily and looked at the hand being held out to him.

He took it. "Yes, master."

The short walk to the sleeping chamber lasted a few eternal moments that Obi-Wan was sure he would recall all of his life. How the air hung still around them, the shadows in the room and the afternoon light through the window. And Qui-Gon's familiar figure walking alongside him, Obi-Wan's hand clutched in the embrace of that larger hand.

Qui-Gon stopped when they stood next to the bed. "Is there any curiosity you wish to satisfy about me? I do not think that the first stage of this ritual will be more than a formality, given how closely we have lived together these past years, but if you have any lingering questions about me, feel free to satisfy them."

Obi-Wan was very glad Qui-Gon could feel his emotions and hear his thoughts, for he was very certain right then that the only sounds he would have been able to make would have been choked at best. In garbled Huttese at worst, depending on how severely he choked on his words.

His master waited for him, and Obi-Wan moved close to Qui-Gon, wanting to feel that cloak wrapped around him again. Qui-Gon obliged him, embracing him, but Obi-Wan knew as soon as he received it that that was not enough, not what he'd wanted. His fingers went to the edges of his master's cloak, and then he was inside it, still separated by layers of clothes from touching flesh to flesh, but inside the cloak with Qui-Gon instead of on the outside.

He sighed. _Better._

Qui-Gon leaned his head down, resting his chin partially on the top of Obi-Wan's head.

To Obi-Wan, he felt melancholy. _Is something wrong?_

#I am... distressed, that I seem to have left so simple a thing as physical comfort undone for you. I should have seen how much you were in need of being touched. I could have given you this no matter what my pain was.#

Obi-Wan felt tears swelling, and didn't quite know why. _You're here now,_ he offered, trying to comfort his master.

#So I am.# Qui-Gon's head moved, and Obi-Wan felt a kiss being brushed on the top of his head. #As are you.#

Wickedly, Obi-Wan dared to ask, _Is there anything *you're* curious about?_

"Perhaps one thing?"

He controlled his breathing with an effort. "And what is that?"

"This." And with no more warning than that, he was being mercilessly tickled, long fingers searching out all of his ticklish spots -- the sides of his neck, which he curled his neck to try to get away from him, his ribs, and up under his arms, right up to his armpits. The under tunic he was wearing made it easy for Qui-Gon to get access to his body, and Obi-Wan twisted, trying to evade those hands.

But he was held tight by Qui-Gon's legs. And a good thing, too, because otherwise he might have fallen. "Master, please..."

"Yes, padawan?" Qui-Gon asked courteously, as though they were standing at a function of state.

Obi-Wan laughed, and resisted the urge to shriek even as he continued squirming in Qui-Gon's grasp. "I can't take much more of this."

It wasn't quite the truth. He could take a great deal more if he fell back on Jedi skills and distanced himself from the sensations. But he wanted to feel this, wanted to feel everything that Qui-Gon might choose to do with him.

As simple as that, the hands gentled, soothing over the sensitized skin that had just been mercilessly ravaged, and Qui-Gon released him, letting him stand upright on his own. "Thank you, Obi-Wan, for allowing that."

He grinned. "Thank you for showing me." Then more shyly. "I liked that."

"Did you?" Qui-Gon asked softly, hands dropping back, away from Obi-Wan. "There is much more yet to come."

Part Twenty-Six

'There is more yet to come.' His master's words echoed through Obi-Wan's mind, and sent tendrils of anticipation throughout his body. They were starting slowly, oh so slowly, in this physical bonding, but their feet were finally upon this path. Obi-Wan could not think of a path that he more wished to walk.

He looked up at Qui-Gon, at his composed face, and the expression lurking in his eyes. Control, patience, and even desire hid there.

Obi-Wan wanted this, he needed this... but he hadn't a clue how to proceed. It wasn't that he lacked in sexual experience. He had that. Enough to know what he liked and to know that *who* he liked was more important than 'what'. But this partner was Qui-Gon, the best 'who' it could possibly be, and they were not so much about to engage in lovemaking as to perform a ritual which would bind their souls further together.

That was a little odd, and a great deal overwhelming. He looked to his master for more guidance.

"Is there anything else you'd like to explore, Obi-Wan?" he was asked by a gentle voice.

"Too many things," he answered honestly.

"Are you comfortable with me?" Qui-Gon asked, opening his arms in demonstration. The sleeves of his cloak swung freely, and the garment gaped open, revealing the tunic underneath. "With this physical part of me that I am housed in?"

Obi-Wan started to nod, then shook his head.

Amused, his master asked, "Which is it?"

_Both._ He forced his thoughts to words. "You... I am comfortable around you, have been comfortable, but... this is new." New to be loved in return, new to know that he would soon be aware of that familiar body in unfamiliar ways.

"New to me also." Qui-Gon began removing his cloak. "Indeed, you have had more time to prepare for this than I have. You at least have entertained the idea."

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled by the lack of readiness he heard from Qui-Gon. He thought he'd sensed Qui-Gon's desire, and surely his master would have let him know in some way that he felt he was being forced into this against his will. Obi-Wan would never do that, most especially not to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon folded the cloak and laid it down. "No, Obi-Wan. It's not like that. Only that this idea is new and unfamiliar to me. I want to be here with you. There *are* other routes that the Mastering of the Physical can take if I did not so wish."

Obi-Wan realized again how fortunate he was to have Qui-Gon as his master, and his partner in all things. To have been soul-bonded and to have committed to it without this particular sharing... he could have borne it, would have borne any burden to be with his beloved master, but it would have hurt so much. To be so close, and to know he could never go closer.

And then Qui-Gon was removing his belt, and all theoretical concerns were cast aside. This was happening now, and this moment was what mattered.

Obi-Wan's fingers itched to help. He wanted to touch, but felt held back by invisible barriers, ones of custom and culture. Those rules no longer applied here, not now, but he felt them nonetheless, and he did not know how to make the crossing from the stage of not touching to touching.

"Do you wish to assist me?" Qui-Gon paused in his disrobing.

Obi-Wan felt grateful for the excuse. "Yes, master."

Qui-Gon's hands stilled, and Obi-Wan found himself taking his master's utility belt from those hands and placing it on top of the discarded cloak.

When he turned back to Qui-Gon, the older man was waiting patiently for him, hands at his sides. Obi-Wan unwound the sash carefully, and placed it aside.

Obi-Wan felt a slow burn begin inside him as he removed the outer tunic, hands brushing down the length of Qui-Gon's arms as he slipped the long sleeves over his master's wrists. The warm weight of the garment in his hands convinced him that this was real, and he resisted the urge to rub his face against it before he folded it and placed it on the growing stack of clothing.

He paused then, just to look at Qui-Gon. They were both attired somewhat informally, but not so informally that either would hesitate to open the door to a visitor.

And yet the sight of his master as he was now felt stunning. As though he'd never seen his master like this before, like a man.

#As I continue to remind you, I *am* but a man.#

_You are far more than that,_ came Obi-Wan's fervent assurance.

"Very well then. As you do not believe me," hands took hold of Obi-Wan's upper arms, tugging him gently toward Qui-Gon, "I shall have to show you then."

Obi-Wan felt his head cradled, then those hands were in his hair, touching him. His padawan braid was stroked between two long fingers and savored, and then finally, the tail of hair at the back of his neck was unfastened, letting his hair fall free, the better to be touched. And Qui-Gon did, the brushing of hair and fingertips across the nape of his neck causing Obi-Wan to shiver and hold himself very still for more of that touch.

"Master?" Obi-Wan managed.

"Hmm?" Qui-Gon replied, apparently intent on his study of his padawan's neck.

"This is *not* convincing me."

"It should." Qui-Gon brought his hands around to the level of Obi-Wan's face. "Look, I have two hands. They are solid and physical. Ordinary hands. And I am using them," his hands moved back up again, one into Obi-Wan's hair, the other one resting along the side of his face, allowing the thumb to make slow circles over the swell of his cheek, "to touch you. Nothing more complicated than that. Only a touch."

"*Your* touch," Obi-Wan corrected. "*That* makes it special."

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not protest further. Instead he resumed his slow, steady examination of Obi-Wan's head.

Obi-Wan reached out, to touch his master more than he needed the balance, hands finding their way to Qui-Gon's waist.

His master stepped back from him, enough to allow Obi-Wan room for exploration, although Qui-Gon's own hands never left Obi-Wan.

Still a little surprised by this new freedom, Obi-Wan was slow to use it, first contenting himself with the feel of his master's waist against the flat of his palms. But as he grew more confident, feeling Qui-Gon's body swaying into him, and knowing that this was not only allowed but required, Obi-Wan's hands began to explore. He examined the clothed planes of the body under his fingers, touching his master with care and love.

It was so much more than he had ever had of Qui-Gon, this freedom. This time and place where everything was allowed. So strange, and yet so perfectly right.

His fingers found their way under the tunic, and to bare skin below. He gasped a little as he made contact with that skin, at the feel of part of Qui-Gon's stomach under the tips of two fingers.

It was so little, and yet it seemed so much more.

"Is it supposed to be like this?" he asked. *As though even the most minor of things are important? I have never experienced anything like this. Is every joining like this when you're soul bonded, or is this just this ritual, or is it something else entirely?* "There weren't very many details in the book you gave me. I mean..."

"I do not know. This is my first time at creating a soul bond as well. Neither of us is the master of this process. In this, we are learners together."

Obi-Wan wasn't sure if that sounded reassuring or frightening. It didn't matter, though, for Qui-Gon had moved from exploring his head to exploring his shoulders, and that touch collapsed any resistance he might have made. Qui-Gon massaged the sore points of his back, near the spine and again under the edges of his shoulder blades where the living Force pulsed angrily around blocked energy channels. It was good, so very good.

And there was so much more to come. He hoped this would be a ritual he lived through.

Qui-Gon's mind was almost as close to his as his own heartbeat now, and Obi-Wan felt the mental chuckle. "Again, padawan, you have far too flattering an opinion of my abilities."

*And you have no idea how stressed my shielding truly is.* He had healed some from yesterday's ordeal, but he had been craving the full soul bonding for days now, and the need to unite was quite strong within him.

#I have some idea.# He stepped away from Obi-Wan, tracing the slim, taut figure with his eyes. "I think it would be wise if we completely disrobe now. I would not want to have to deal with the results of spontaneous combustion should you suddenly explode, as you put it. I'm sure the master in charge of the laundry would be less than happy with me should our clothing become blood-stained without good cause."

He was being teased. Obi-Wan didn't mind. It seemed like a serious enough possibility to him. He stripped the remainder of his light clothing away, putting the clothes down neatly.

Qui-Gon undressed more slowly, and Obi-Wan found himself watching every second of it, enthralled by the gracefulness of his master's movements, and what was gradually being revealed to him.

A nude body that he had seen many times before this night through the long years of their acquaintanceship, but one that meant more to him tonight than it ever had. A body which would be shared with him soon. One that was inseparably tied, on this plane, to the persona of the man he loved more than anything or anyone. Even the Jedi, even the Force. Qui-Gon embodied all that was good, all that was worth living for, and at that moment, nothing seemed good that was not first filtered through the lens that was Qui-Gon.

That was it, Obi-Wan decided. He was losing control of his mind as a result of the bonding process.

But the sight before his eyes, and what would follow this evening, meant so much to him...

...and finally both of them were nude, standing there in the growing coolness of the room, studying each other closely.

Obi-Wan's eyes tracked the smooth passage of strength and fluidity through Qui-Gon's frame, and the echoing of the man in the posture of that body, in the way he held himself. No one else would have stood that way, with Jedi stillness, and yet, a coiled energy under the surface that seemed to reach out for Obi-Wan, seemed to pull him closer.

#Do you think you are the only one who has these feelings, knows this wonder?# Qui-Gon asked, interrupting Obi-Wan's quiet reverie. He allowed Obi-Wan to see through his eyes, to look at Obi-Wan and appreciate the clean lines of his body, of the thin but powerful nature of his muscles, and the eyes large and lambent, reflecting back the joy of Qui-Gon's regard in him.

"This is what I want," Obi-Wan whispered, half to himself. "I have what I want."

"I'm glad you want me, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon said, a smile twitching at the edges of his lips. "That will make this easier."

Obi-Wan wanted it easy, he wanted it hard, he wanted everything in all the ways and combinations that Qui-Gon could possibly provide. Instead he stood there, chest heaving and decided what to do. Controlling his breathing came first, then came the inevitable doubt. *What next? I wish I knew what to do.*

"If my reactions are any gauge, you are doing fine, Obi-Wan," his master said.

"What now?" he asked softly.

"You have seen me unclothed before, I hope, without traces of hidden disgust..."

"No, of course not, master."

Qui-Gon understood. "Good. Then I wish you to touch the same territory you have seen, and grow familiar with me that way, also."

"I'm not sure, master..." Obi-Wan said apprehensively. He wanted to, yes, but he knew he was not completely in mental control of himself, and did not wish to cause damage by the wrong action.

Qui-Gon had no such doubts. "I am."

Part Twenty-Seven

Obi-Wan took a long moment to react. Naked. His master was standing there completely naked.

And waiting for Obi-Wan to touch him.

Obi-Wan was certain that he had never done anything good enough in his life to deserve this. A Jedi sought not reward and, in any case, he was still learning, merely following his master's lead. He'd done nothing, saved no world from dying and prevented no disaster from occurring. Surely he should not be here, surely someone else should be in his place...

#It is not a matter of deserving, Obi-Wan, but a matter of what is necessary and right.#

Obi-Wan nodded, not entirely certainly why, except that agreeing with his master was a habit even when, or especially when, he wasn't listening closely. His attention now was riveted on Qui-Gon's body. Or more specifically, on his hips. On the way his stomach curved down to those hip bones, suggesting so much and drawing his eyes even lower. _Yes, master._

Qui-Gon chuckled.

Obi-Wan felt his face heat, suddenly brought to the awareness that he hadn't quite been paying attention to the conversation.

#It's fine, love. There are more important concerns at the moment.# Qui-Gon bridged the gap between them, taking Obi-Wan's hands in his own. #I believe you were wanting to touch this?#

His hands were placed flat against Qui-Gon's midsection, and Obi-Wan traced over the area at which he had so recently been looking, skimming down, finding those luscious hipbones and stroking them. Even under his hands, their arch was apparent. The curve demanded that his hands move lower and follow them downward.

He did.

And felt the softness under his searching fingers, the crinkle of hair.

Qui-Gon inhaled sharply, but did not move. "Do you like that, Obi-Wan?" he asked huskily.

Obi-Wan nodded. He released his grip, and his hands moved back up, across Qui-Gon's stomach again, and up to the broad chest, and still higher until his fingers delicately traced Qui-Gon's clavicle. "Yes, master."

"Do you feel comfortable yet with me?"

Comfortable? He had stepped closer to Qui-Gon without making a conscious decision to do so, his body very nearly touching his master's nude form, almost brushing against it. To think that only a short time before, he had been shy of seeking out his master's arms.

"I think so."

"Good." Qui-Gon's hands came up, but he did not touch Obi-Wan. Instead, they hovered a few inches above his arms. "May I?"

"Oh, please."

Obi-Wan's eyelids hovered on the edge of closing as those hands grazed his arms, bringing the skin to full awareness without the satisfaction that a full touch would have given it. Qui-Gon's hands moved lower as well, darting behind him to test the vertebrae in his spine, down nearly to his pelvis, then they came around again, to explore his hips.

Fingers tested his navel, causing Obi-Wan to squirm, and then his breath hissed in as Qui-Gon's hands went lower still.

Qui-Gon did not content himself with a brief, hesitant exploration as Obi-Wan had, but instead, touched him in the same way he had touched Obi-Wan's face and hair before, as if making a thorough examination for later report to the Council.

Fingers ran through the hair at his groin, stroking it, exploring the texture and brushing it into order.

Then they moved down still further.

Obi-Wan's eyes, half-lidded, snapped open, and he looked up at Qui-Gon. His master was looking directly at him, and his gaze held Obi-Wan transfixed as his half-erection was lifted, and fingers slipped around it, testing his length, feeling out the veins beneath the skin and finding his pulse beat.

He wanted to collapse then and there, but was kept in place by Qui-Gon's eyes. They pinned him, and he could not flinch away or to.

The extra skin around the head of his penis was pulled gently back, leaving him exposed and trembling. But the touch remained gentle, and he was discovered, not teased. Every secret of his body was being sought out by Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan only wanted more.

Then the sweet pressure was removed, and Obi-Wan gasped in pain.

_Why?_ came the silent cry as he looked into Qui-Gon's face.

Immediately he was reassured, by a mental caress as well as a physical one. Qui-Gon pulled him close until they were touching, bodies swaying together. #It is only that I could not reach to continue, my love.#

Uncomprehendingly, Obi-Wan stared at his master. Not reach? His master could reach perfectly fine. It had been that Obi-Wan didn't want him to *stop*.

Then he understood. Qui-Gon wanted to explore further. It wasn't quite what Obi-Wan's body was demanding, but anything, anything that Qui-Gon wanted had to be right. He hungered to be touched again. _We could lie down,_ he suggested hopefully.

#We could.# Hands brushed over his back in slow, soothing motions. #We have completed the first step, I believe, and are well into the next.#

_And what is that, master?_

#We must accept our findings. If this were not to be a physical joining as well as a opening, then that would be all we need do. And, indeed, we may stop there now, if you wish. There is no need to continue today. The mastering of the physical element of a relationship is not necessarily about sexual interaction.#

Obi-Wan was taken aback. Was that why Qui-Gon had gone no further? If so, why had he gone that far at all? It was cruelty if he had only meant to stop. Obi-Wan probed his master's feelings, seeking an answer. _You don't mean that,_ he accused, as he found, with relief, Qui-Gon's own desire.

A mental sigh, and then, #But I have to give you the option, padawan.#

_You do not have to protect me against everything, master," Obi-Wan said, stressing the title. _I also am a man. Not simply someone you must tend and watch over._

#And if I would like to?#

Obi-Wan desired very much then that he was taller, because he wanted so badly to kiss Qui-Gon, to penetrate him and be one with him in even that limited way.

#As you wish, my love.#

And Qui-Gon was bending over him, lowering his mouth so that Obi-Wan could reach it. Qui-Gon held back from the kiss, waiting for Obi-Wan, a gesture his apprentice much appreciated. Obi-Wan wanted this, wanted to initiate this.

And he did.

He pressed his lips against Qui-Gon's, feeling the firm pressure meeting him, then twisted his head slightly, searching for a deeper kiss.

Qui-Gon's lips opened under his, and eagerly Obi-Wan took advantage of that openness, tasting Qui-Gon.

They had kissed before. Passionately, even. But this was something new even so. A kiss that could go so much farther, that did not need to be reined in, that could be followed to its natural conclusion.

He wanted more still. More than a meeting of lips, more than a mere promise of things to come. He'd thought this contact would be enough, would begin to satisfy the urge within him to be fully joined with Qui-Gon, but instead, it only worsened the need. It showed him what little he had, and hinted at so much more that he could have.

Gasping, Obi-Wan broke away, resting his forehead against the coolness of Qui-Gon's chest.

Arms embraced him soothingly. "If it was too much...?"

_Too much?_ he asked, unable to form words any other way than mentally yet. _It was not enough, master._

"Ah." He could feel Qui-Gon's amusement, and knew then from their close mental contact that the amusement was a part of Qui-Gon only because of him. He had brought this laughter into Qui-Gon's life, and Qui-Gon would not willingly lose it.

Obi-Wan smiled back, sharing in the affection and warmth. "May we move to the bed, master?"

Qui-Gon's eyes darkened, and this time, he kissed Obi-Wan, a quick but thorough assessment that left Obi-Wan trembling again.

Stepping to the bed, his master pulled him along. Obi-Wan went. Joyfully. Greedily. With a deep want, and knowing that the want would finally be fulfilled.

They sat down, and Obi-Wan let himself fall backward, sprawling out on the wide bed.

Qui-Gon turned to regard him. "Happy?"

"Very. I'd be happier though if you were lying down as well."

"That's easily done."

And then Qui-Gon laid down next to him, on his side. His hand moved to Obi-Wan's thigh.

Obi-Wan's breathing fluttered, and then he calmed it, the better to experience these sensations.

Qui-Gon tested the muscles in his thighs, teased the sensitive insides, then moved down to his knees. He found the tickle spot, then searched out the ligaments connecting the muscles of his calves to his knees. One leg at a time, Qui-Gon rubbed them, until Obi-Wan was intensely glad that he was lying down, for he was certain that his knees were too weak to support him should he stand.

He lolled back, simply processing the sensations Qui-Gon was producing in his body. The rest of his body was just as respectfully mapped under those knowing hands, and finally, finally, Qui-Gon returned to lie beside him.

_Have you finished?_

#I've just begun.#

Obi-Wan reached out to his master, putting his arms around him, and then tugged him down. He wanted Qui-Gon's body touching his. _Why do I need this so much, master? I know, I *believe* I know that the mental connection is more important than a mere physical liaison, and yet... yet I *want* this, I want our lovemaking so much more. What is wrong with me?_

#Nothing is wrong.# Qui-Gon settled against him, leaning his weight against Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shuddered and curled into his master.

A caress of his cheek centered him, and he asked, _How can nothing be wrong?_

#Because, love, this is normal. Of that much I am certain. A soul bond demands the fullest consummation that the participants in it can give. We are capable of a full bonding, on every level, including the physical, and what you feel is that demand.#

_Then it is not wrong to place the physical above the mental?_

#Say instead that they must be in balance, and as we have already mastered the emotional, so must we the physical.#

He knew that. Obi-Wan was sure he knew that. So why then had he needed to ask?

His need must be confusing him. He'd already noticed impairment of his mental processes. The deterioration must be getting worse.

#Then we must satisfy the demand of the bond.#

Part Twenty-Eight

Qui-Gon brushed his lips against Obi-Wan's. #Shall we begin?#

_Please._ Obi-Wan pulled his master down further. There was no way in which he could be too close to Qui-Gon.

#I could not be closer to you without lying on top of you, padawan.#

_What's preventing you?_

An eyebrow raised. #Nothing, I suppose.#

Obi-Wan tugged more insistently. _Then come here._

Slowly, Qui-Gon moved over him, distributing weight carefully, and Obi-Wan fought back his impatience with an effort. He needed full contact, wanted to feel that bare skin pressed against his until he was surrounded by that heat...

With an effort, Obi-Wan calmed himself. He would get it. It would happen. There was no reason to feel this desperation.

#None at all.# Qui-Gon covered him, chest resting on Obi-Wan's, their legs tangled together. #Better?#

There was the heat he'd been missing. _Much._ Obi-Wan sighed with pleasure. His master was holding back a large portion of his bulk with his arms, pressing against Obi-Wan without crushing him. Obi-Wan didn't mind the weight, would not have minded being crushed either, as long as it was by Qui-Gon. He writhed under Qui-Gon, and felt the deliciousness of the movement cut off, prevented by his master, and the little motion that remained to him became still more erotic.

The satisfying feel of Qui-Gon against him met his need for closeness. But much as he wished to simply enjoy their new position, Obi-Wan felt a driving force inside him that wanted him to do more, to get more. _Master,_ he begged, not knowing for what, but knowing that Qui-Gon could provide it.

#You will have it,# Qui-Gon promised, then captured his lips again, tenderly, teasing them with his tongue until Obi-Wan panted, open-mouthed for more.

More. That was part of the need. He needed to touch Qui-Gon also. To reciprocate his master's actions, to act, not only be acted upon. It was a strain to divide his concentration yet again, between the feel of Qui-Gon's body on his, the motion of those tantalizing lips, and his own movements, but he did, needing to touch.

Obi-Wan reached out, his hands running down Qui-Gon's sides, stroking the smooth skin and cherishing the scars his fingers ran across. He did not appreciate the pain his master had gone through in getting these scars, but they were a sign of who and what his master was. A Jedi who had endured pain in the name of galactic peace. His bonded and his love.

Qui-Gon sighed softly, breaking off the kiss. "They are only scars, my Obi-Wan. You have your own."

"Yes. But these are yours." Obi-Wan thought then of a better way to honor those marks of experience. Not just with his fingers, but with his lips and mouth and tongue as well.

He rolled out from under Qui-Gon, using a touch of the Force to move the heavier man. When Qui-Gon would have turned over to look at him, Obi-Wan pushed firmly on his shoulders. "Lie down. Please." He had to do this, had to take an active role in this.

Qui-Gon's eyebrow quirked up again, but he did not question his padawan further, instead following the instruction until he was sprawled on his stomach on the bed.

Obi-Wan forgot what he had wanted to do as he saw so much of Qui-Gon exposed before him. The large expanse of back, the sensuous line curving down to a pair of extremely shapely buttocks, the long legs... Obi-Wan could not suppress his moan.

He crawled closer in order to touch Qui-Gon, to give his desire form, and found himself not just touching, but instead draping his hips over the rounded curve of Qui-Gon's backside. His groin rubbed against the mixed hardness and softness of the flesh underneath him, and Obi-Wan groaned when Qui-Gon shifted for him, legs widening so that Obi-Wan fit more easily there, almost easily enough to...

He groaned again, and despite not being fully erect, pushed into the other man, grinding himself against Qui-Gon. He wanted that connection so badly. He needed, and his mind was pressuring him as much as his body to seek completion in his other half.

Needed, but was not ready for. His body was simply not capable. He felt mentally and emotionally as aroused as he could possibly be, but his body did not seem to agree.

Disappointed, torn from his struggle, Obi-Wan let his head fall to the hard plane of Qui-Gon's shoulder and breathed steadily, trying to regain what little semblance of control he could muster.

He could feel Qui-Gon's emotions, felt a matching turbulence in his master's thoughts, and was grateful that he was not the only one being so affected. He was not imagining the emotional undertow that kept catching him off-guard and sweeping him along without warning.

With an effort, Obi-Wan got back some of his control and pulled himself away from Qui-Gon, moving to kneel beside him.

Qui-Gon's head turned. "You don't need to change your position."

"Yes, yes, I do." His voice held clear for that, but then he corrected himself. Was it his imagination, or was there a sob there? "I did."

Soothing emotions were sent his way. But even Qui-Gon's soothing contained tendrils of their mutual longing. Obi-Wan held himself very still, wanting to keep that longing from abrading the raw emotions within him. He needed. Force, how he needed.

But his body wasn't capable. He had to slow down. But how to accomplish that?

Obi-Wan remembered then what he had wanted to do earlier, and set himself to the task, as a kind of penance. It was soothing, and it might keep him from another experience like the one he'd just had. The hint of the end was what had shook him so. He was not ready yet to brush against a moment as climactic as that.

Lips pressing against Qui-Gon's back, he laved each scar he found with his tongue, letting the tension build up between them again. Each touch, each contact inched the level of tension higher, but despite what the tension did to him, it was preferable to losing contact with his master altogether. Obi-Wan wanted that tension as much as it destroyed him, needed it to hold himself together. He nuzzled against the unscarred skin, finding in this yet another way to pay homage to his master. *I want this. I want to do this. I _need_ to do it.*

#Then do.#

_I am, or hadn't you noticed?_

Qui-Gon's chuckle was muffled by the bed, but Obi-Wan could feel it rumbling through his chest. #Yes, love, I noticed.#

Obi-Wan smiled, and continued. He could deal with the relatively neutral territory of his master's back with aplomb, despite the rising need between them. Everything he did at this moment was sensual, and added to the pressure inside him to complete the bond. But as he kissed his way down from Qui-Gon's shoulders to his mid-back, and then down to his lower back, Obi-Wan could not help but rub his face against the hollow of his master's lower back. Could not stop himself from reveling in the sweet dip there that presaged -- he brushed his cheek against the roundedness so temptingly close -- so much, oh so much more.

Mindlessly, as though meditating, Obi-Wan began to lick and kiss that flesh as well, experiencing only those tastes and those sensations. All of Qui-Gon was not too much for him, and he could not stop himself from nibbling, from exploring every texture his eager lips found.

The images and emotions his master was sending to him did not help him to stop, instead, they reached the part of him that most resonated with those heated thoughts. Qui-Gon was thinking of Obi-Wan, and the plunging feeling of sinking himself into a warm, willing body. How it felt to be penetrated, mind as well as body, and the counterpart to his own actions -- Qui-Gon's reactions to Obi-Wan's touch.

It was too much. Obi-Wan could not hold his emotions and his sense impressions at the same time he held Qui-Gon's. Not with the need to bond threatening to swamp his consciousness entirely and turn him into only a thing which needed.

Obi-Wan fell back onto the bed, unable to continue under the onslaught of those feelings. So much tension, so much need, and all harnessed by a control that was only barely withstanding the demand of the soul bond to be together completely.

And yet, somehow, he knew that he had to hold out longer. He could not, but he had to. Had to let his body become as fully aroused as his mind, else this would fail. He did not question how he knew that. It did not matter whether he had read it in the text on soul bonding, or deduced it, or if the thought had even come from his own mind. What mattered was holding on, and not breaking down and sobbing like a small child.

#You do not need to guard yourself so closely,# came the warm, much appreciated response from Qui-Gon. #I will aid you.#

And then, a need was met that he didn't know he had, as Qui-Gon turned over and pulled Obi-Wan close in his arms. The aloneness and anxiety that had begun to creep in unawares were seared away by that embrace.

He was protected again, although he didn't quite know what he was being protected from this time.

#I will take care of you, love, and help you retain your sense of self should you lose sight of it. There is no need to worry.#

_Of course not,_ he affirmed, suddenly certain that everything was all right again. _Not with you here, master._ He unfolded himself from the tight mental ball he had curled himself in, and let himself be caressed. _I don't understand why, or how I can want you so much, and yet..._

#And yet your body will not cooperate?#

_Yes._ It made no sense. How could he desire Qui-Gon so much, and yet, not be erect? His body was not responding to his emotional state as it usually did. And if he could not channel these feelings... Obi-Wan remembered the Force explosion in the training salle so long ago now.

He was being kissed again. Lack of space in which to speak did nothing to stop Qui-Gon from talking. #Do not worry. It must be a side effect of the bonding or the bonding process. I feel it, too.#

_What can we do?_

#Very simple, love. I shall reason more directly with your body.#

_Reason? With my body?_

Qui-Gon moved down, and though lips were no longer preventing Obi-Wan from speaking out loud, he could not manage words. Despite the sensations Qui-Gon had fed him, having Qui-Gon's lips on him, touching his chest, was a much more intense experience than sharing in his master's own experience had been.

The dark head, still with the hair firmly tied back, bent over his torso. That image indelibly marked into his mind, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He did not need to see in order to feel what was happening to him.

Lips trailed down his stomach, and a tongue drew a teasing line down from there, to his hip and onto his thigh, leaving Obi-Wan trembling and nearly breathless. It promised so much.

#And you will not be disappointed.#

Part Twenty-Nine

Qui-Gon shifted his position so that he was half-kneeling, half-sitting between Obi-Wan's thighs, a hand grasping each, palms covering the vulnerable expanse of skin. Thumbs made slow circles on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and then that head dipped further down.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in anticipation, and held it until he started to become dizzy. He was forgetting everything he knew about breathing, and it didn't matter at all.

He felt warm steam play over his genitals, as lips traveled from the root to his tip. The open mouth breathing made him feel Qui-Gon's desire, and he reached out to his master, tasting the other man's emotions, the eagerness, the willingness, and the need.

Then the tongue licked him back along the path that the mouth had taken, along the top of his shaft, and took his thoughts away.

That sensation was more real than breath alone had been, and Obi-Wan was brought to the reality that this was truly happening.

Reality took a sharp turn as that tongue continued licking him along both sides of his penis, moistening him as it delved into the soft separation between the shaft and the nubbly sac it rested on. The tongue slid along that dividing line and Obi-Wan wanted to moan, wanted to writhe. He felt himself getting harder, and knew then that Qui-Gon's direct reasoning was working. He would experience physical arousal. He would be able to meet the demands of the bond.

#Yes, love.#

Obi-Wan nearly moaned with the pleasure of that casual endearment. He wanted to send his own emotions to Qui-Gon, but then the other man's hand curved across his groin, thumb and index finger sliding down the slickened sides as they followed the path the tongue was taking. His penis was lifted, and his heart began pacing frantically as his legs tensed and fine tremors began.

His thoughts, what remained of them, began to splinter. *I think... I think he's going to do it... Oh, Force.* He tilted his hips, wanting more, begging for more.

A hand gently pulled the loose skin of his penis down, and then he was taken in full-length, Qui-Gon's mouth moving slowly over the length of him, savoring.

Suction pulled at him, encouraging him to full erectness, and Obi-Wan felt that this was what he'd been waiting for. _Don't stop. Please, don't stop._

#I have no intention of stopping, and every intention of continuing.#

Obi-Wan relaxed into that assurance, hearing the emotion more than the words. He let go of all of his control even as the process repeated, the mouth moving slowly over him for several long minutes as he was slowly tasted.

The speed was nowhere near enough to push him into orgasm, yet he felt as though he was already there. This was pleasurable, oh so pleasurable, this slow savoring, and he allowed himself to be taken, to go wherever Qui-Gon wanted him to go.

And then Qui-Gon moved from his awkward half-kneeling position to kneel fully before him, never letting Obi-Wan's penis drop from his mouth.

The shaft turned as Qui-Gon moved, the full length of it now along the roof of the throat, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's lips touching the base of his erection.

He raised his knees instinctively to get more control, and felt the urge to thrust. He had been content a moment before to let Qui-Gon do as he pleased, but now... now he wanted to go deeper, wanted to release the pressure within him, satisfy the bond and feel the culmination of his mental and physical arousal. A sob escaped him.

Qui-Gon's hands moved to the bed, on either side of Obi-Wan's hips. Obi-Wan didn't care. The only things that existed were his penis and Qui-Gon's mouth.

_Please let this be real, please don't stop._

But Qui-Gon had stopped, was not doing anything but kneeling there.

Obi-Wan wanted to thrust so badly.

#Then do. I am here."

Light. Force. There was nothing more erotic than Qui-Gon's voice in his mind, telling him to do what he most wanted to do.

Obi-Wan thrust upwards, and again, as he lost knowledge of anything but that mouth and what it was doing to him, what he wanted to do to it.

His hands came up to Qui-Gon's head instinctively, cradling it, guiding the motion so that he knew where Qui-Gon was, would not thrust too deep and harm his master.

It was the only semblance of control he could muster as the tension built. On every thrust it seemed as though he grew harder, his need more insistent. He was tightening and felt the release coming closer and closer...

And still was not there yet. He moaned deep in his throat as the combination of anticipation and frustration dominated his mind, making his thrusts harder, more frantic. He needed this. He needed it so much.

And then, finally, he felt the head of his penis beginning to swell, white-hot and more sensitive than before, and knew that this was it. Obi-Wan sought out Qui-Gon's consciousness, knowing he could not be separate at this moment, could not endure a lovemaking devoid of mental presence. He tied them close together, needing that contact as much as he needed the orgasm that had built up, was building inside him.

#I am here, my Obi-Wan. I am here.#

That reassurance sent a streak of pleasure down from the tip to the root of his shaft, a silent signal, and then he was erupting, pumping his hips harder to keep the sensation from ever stopping as a wave of sensation traveled out from his groin to the rest of his body, his tensed muscles and tensed mind finally releasing together.

The spurts of his orgasm were timed with the movements of his hips. Obi-Wan wanted to move his whole body, to keep these sensations coming, but could not move as much as he needed to, could not manage to move more than his pelvis.

And then Qui-Gon's mouth pressed deliberately against his penis, not swallowing, but instead tongue stroking at the sensitive underside of the tip and conspiring with tight suction and lips to milk the head, to provide the greater sensation he'd wanted and not known how to achieve.

He could not form words, was past words. He felt Qui-Gon's presence in his mind and could not form even thoughts to speak to him.

Instead, he laid there, hips pumping weakly as that mouth, that wonderful mouth laved him again and again, until he had no more left to give.

When there was no more left, he rested back, dimly aware of Qui-Gon moving, of that mouth leaving him, and finally, after what seemed like a very long time, Qui-Gon's weight returning, settling on the bed next to him.

He was raised to a sitting position, and the cool rim of a glass placed to his lips.

"Drink, padawan," he was commanded, and Obi-Wan did so, realizing only then that he was thirsty, that his throat was raw as though he had been screaming.

"You were," Qui-Gon said, then placed the glass aside, and gathered Obi-Wan close to him in his arms. The bond glowed between them, and Obi-Wan was content to simply lie there.

He listened to the steady beat of Qui-Gon's heart. His sweaty cheek was pressed against his master's cool chest, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

He felt Qui-Gon testing their bond, felt it reverberate to that deft touch. To Obi-Wan, it felt stronger, more valid, and yet... something was missing. He could not think of what. His higher thought processes were returning slowly as his arousal had finally been satiated.

#I must also go through what you have gone through,# came the quiet answer from Qui-Gon, responding to his unspoken question. #That is what you feel as unfinished.#

Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Energy was returning, if only in dribs and drabs, and languidly, Obi-Wan turned his head to press kisses against his master's chest.

The smooth movement of Qui-Gon's lungs paused for a moment, then continued as Qui-Gon mastered himself.

Strangely, Obi-Wan felt little of that response. He could sense Qui-Gon's need, and under any ordinary circumstance, would have become aroused again by his partner's desire.

But not now. He felt drained, more completely drained than he had ever been in his life, and neither his body or his mind seemed capable of need or want. _It's the soul bond, isn't it?_

#If it is not, then I have a much lower opinion of the stamina of youth than I did previous to this. Obviously, you must be neglecting your training.#

Obi-Wan grinned, lips moving against Qui-Gon's skin. _I would be happy to devote as much time to this kind of training as you wish, master._

#You would?#

_Of course. I think perhaps it should be a part of our daily training._

Qui-Gon's hands explored him, one cradling his head as the other moved from its position at his waist down to clasp the curve of his hips. #It's unfair to bring this topic up now when I cannot help but agree with you.#

_A Jedi must pick his time wisely,_ Obi-Wan replied, coiling his leg over Qui-Gon's until his thigh was pressed against the hardness at Qui-Gon's groin. _And, as always, I am obedient to my master's commands._

He was teasing Qui-Gon with his words. Not with his body. With his body, he was promising, because there was nothing he would withhold from his master. Not now, not ever. No longer did he have to hold himself back or leash his emotions. He could do and feel and say the passion and love that consumed him.

#Yes, love, you can.#

Obi-Wan left off with his kissing to prop himself up more directly on Qui-Gon's chest so that he could look into Qui-Gon's eyes. "And what do you want, master?"

"You."

And he was pulled up to the level of his master's mouth, body dragging against Qui-Gon's, and kissed thoroughly.

Part Thirty

Obi-Wan grinned as he was kissed yet again.

His body molded pliantly to Qui-Gon's, completely relaxed after what Qui-Gon had done to him. _And you, master? What would you like?_ he asked even as his mouth was thoroughly taken.

He felt the answer more than heard it, as Qui-Gon communicated directly with his mind.

Images of penetration, of their bodies moving together came to him, and Obi-Wan realized that, despite the impression of control Qui-Gon had been projecting, his master felt the same urges he did. Qui-Gon had been holding back and restraining himself to ensure that his more susceptible padawan was not harmed by the demands of the bond.

_Not any more,_ Obi-Wan soothed. _I am well now, and can take care of your needs._ Assuming he could muster up the strength to move. But that was a small consideration.

Qui-Gon's mind reached for his, entwining them. Obi-Wan responded eagerly, sharing his satisfaction with his master to alleviate the strain on the other man's senses.

But there was no lessening of desire.

Obi-Wan's own completeness triggered an intense craving in his master, and Qui-Gon called on the bond again, reaching for it to assuage his need.

_I'm here,_ Obi-Wan reassured. _I'm here, master._

And that was something he had never told Qui-Gon, that every time he said 'master', he meant 'my love'.

#Oh, love,# Qui-Gon said into his mind. #I never knew.#

_You must be deaf, then._

#Quite likely.#

Qui-Gon paused in his ravaging of Obi-Wan's mouth, his breathing more heavy than normal. He stared down at Obi-Wan, not speaking.

Obi-Wan sensed his master's control faltering. _What do you want me to do?_

Desire enfolded him, so much passion held back, and despite himself, despite his exhaustion, Obi-Wan felt the bond quicken within him again. _Master?_ he questioned.

_Yes, padawan?_

The word wrapped around him, and Obi-Wan knew then that Qui-Gon meant all of the same things with 'padawan' as he did when he said 'master'. How had he never noticed before?

#Perhaps because I only recently realized myself what you mean to me.#

_Are you certain?_ Now that he had Qui-Gon, had his soul bonded there with him, it seemed as though the signs had always been there. That he had always known what Qui-Gon was to him and would be to him. From the first, still as a student at the Academy and then as a failed initiate, when he had been so desperate to call Qui-Gon 'master' and so shattered when he had finally accepted that Qui-Gon did not want him. Even then Qui-Gon had been all the galaxy to him, although he had not known why.

#And even then you were finding your way into my heart.#

_Not that you let me know about it._ Obi-Wan grumbled a little as his fingers traced over Qui-Gon's chest.

#Why should it have been necessary to tell you of something you caused?#

For that, Obi-Wan tweaked a nipple. _Just remember,_ he said, smiling, _there's no need to mention that, since I already know about it._

#Good. Then I shall not mention this.#

And Obi-Wan's hand was pulled down, Qui-Gon's fingers rough and incautious on his wrist, pushing it until Obi-Wan's hand encountered the softness of his master's penis.

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's immediate remorse as he realized he had done something in his passion that his padawan might well object to. #I apologize...#

_No, master. I'm happy to assist in any way I can._

And that was putting it mildly.

Obi-Wan slid down Qui-Gon, enjoying the feel of their bodies rubbing together. He curled around his master's waist, head cushioned between stomach and thigh, one leg thrown carelessly over Qui-Gon's, and his hand remaining where it had been placed, idly stroking Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon's hand moved to Obi-Wan's head, testing the spiky softness of his hair yet again.

Obi-Wan could have purred.

Instead, he rubbed his head against Qui-Gon's touch, and began playing with the organ under his hand.

He could see for himself now that Qui-Gon had been right -- his master also had not been able to sustain an erection, despite the arousal that Obi-Wan felt thrumming through Qui-Gon.

He felt the textures under his hand, and better still, the reactions in his bonded's mind to each touch. He was needed, greatly needed at that moment, and it contented Obi-Wan deep down in the part of his self that hungered for identity, hungered for a relationship that would not break. He rubbed his face against Qui-Gon's stomach, reaching out with his tongue to lick the spots his mouth passed over.

The hand on his head urged him downward, and Obi-Wan went. Delightedly.

This was not yet the time for quickness, and so Obi-Wan settled in for a long, slow session of teasing. He would have to bring Qui-Gon to full erectness through physical skill alone. He didn't see a problem with that. A leisurely session of lovemaking with Qui-Gon, finally *his* Qui-Gon? He would enjoy that extremely, and was glad that their current circumstances allowed it. He hoped his master would give himself fully to it, and not draw on Jedi control to resist. What good would the sensations do if Qui-Gon was ignoring them and shunting them off into the Force?

#You have much to learn about the nature of control, Obi-Wan.#

He did? A thrill of pride and pleasure went through him at having a love who could teach him in all ways. And the joy of learning. He would have to make certain to need many, many lessons.

#You may have as many lessons as you desire.#

_Thank you, master._

He mouthed the semi-erect penis, enjoying the softness that allowed him to hold it all comfortably in his mouth. He manipulated it with tongue, lips and teeth, setting teeth gently on it, then soothed the non-existent hurt with the tip of his tongue.

He wanted to do more, but was disappointed when Qui-Gon began to swell under his attentions.

Obi-Wan applied himself instead to increasing that swelling, curving his tongue around the bottom of the shaft, hollowing his cheeks around the side and applying a steady pressure.

Qui-Gon groaned sharply. #Obi-Wan!#

_Yes, master._ He didn't know what he was saying 'yes' to, but it didn't matter. Right now, 'Yes, master' was the proper answer to almost anything Qui-Gon might ask of him.

In his current position, lying half across Qui-Gon's stomach, Obi-Wan had little control. He could not speed his rhythm without chancing the loss of his master's erection. All he could do was continue the slow seduction.

The hand in his hair was joined by another one, both gripping his head and very clearly expressing their owner's frustration. Rather tightly, too.

Obi-Wan let a little of what he felt echo through their bond, and Qui-Gon released his head instantly.

_You don't have to do that, master,_ Obi-Wan said, mouth still carefully attending to Qui-Gon's erection. _Just don't grab so hard._

Qui-Gon's hands fisted around the bed coverings. #No, Obi-Wan. I don't think I can...# His mental voice faltered, and instead Obi-Wan heard the mental groan of need. #I can't hold myself back like that.#

Obi-Wan felt a throb of excitement at that admission. _Then don't, master._

He continued his slow ministrations, and then realized the problem. Slow wasn't what Qui-Gon wanted any more, but it was all he could give in this position. His mind wondered over the problem. Obi-Wan *wanted* to give Qui-Gon pleasure, wanted his master to feel the same things he had -- but he didn't want to be hurt either, and he didn't see how he could give Qui-Gon control over this without making matters worse. Perhaps Qui-Gon would settle only for thrusting with his hips, would not try something that would hurt him.

And maybe his jaw wasn't becoming sore from this awkward positioning.

Obi-Wan sat up.

Qui-Gon's body bucked, and his eyes flew open. "What are you *doing*, padawan?"

Obi-Wan thought he could definitely hear echoes of command in that particular use of 'padawan'.

"I am repositioning myself, master." His eyes twinkled. Qui-Gon possessed little of his normal control now. It was a treat to view his master like this -- face taut, body tense, and well... *naked*.

"If you wouldn't mind moving?" Obi-Wan said politely.

Qui-Gon looked steadily at him. Was that a glare? Yes, it definitely was.

Obi-Wan could have chuckled. Would have, except that his teacher would certainly not approve of or appreciate the humor. "Please move. I need to lie down."

Reluctantly, Qui-Gon shifted, allowing Obi-Wan room.

Obi-Wan took full advantage of the space made on the bed, lying on his stomach, head turned to look at Qui-Gon.

His master looked quite frustrated now. Obi-Wan could almost hear the *Now what?* that was threatening to push past what remained of Qui-Gon's controls. Obi-Wan's half-grin wasn't helping matters.

#Fine. You know the question now. Tell me what you have in mind.#

Obi-Wan felt laughter breaking out over him, and could not stop it. He turned his face into the bed, and let himself shake with the force of it.

"Padawan..."

The voice was very definitely threatening now, and Obi-Wan swallowed the laughter with an effort, almost choking on it. His lungs hurt when he spoke. "What do you *think* I have in mind?"

"I have no idea."

Obi-Wan knew from their bond that Qui-Gon did not mean it. His master knew, but was resisting the knowledge. He let his grin spread a little wider, and then, very deliberately, wriggled on the bed, pushing his buttocks into the air. "No idea, master?" he enquired archly.

"Obi-Wan..."

"Please."

A sigh, and then Qui-Gon curled next to him, one hand stroking Obi-Wan's body from shoulder to lower back.

_A little lower would be nice, too._

#You don't know what you're asking for. I can't -- I can barely master myself tonight. You've already seen my difficulty. And I have no wish to hurt you.#

_As it happens, I know precisely what I'm asking for. And as to your control,_ Obi-Wan caught his master's gaze fully, meeting his eyes as though that would be more convincing than his mental voice. "I believe you have much less chance of hurting me this way."

Qui-Gon's eyes squeezed shut.

Obi-Wan felt his master's deep desire to do this, battling with a small, still rational part that said he could not, could not force himself upon his padawan this way.

*That's ridiculous,* Obi-Wan thought. "This is as much my choice as the other was. Did I not warn you about protecting me? Particularly," Obi-Wan said, smiling without any animosity, "when I neither need nor want it?"

Qui-Gon hrmphed, a sound that Obi-Wan knew from long habit that he was throwing up his mental hands and consigning his padawan to the lower netherhells, or, in Jedi terms, kitchen duty.

Obi-Wan slithered forward, until his head was once again in Qui-Gon's lap. "Perhaps you're concerned over an issue of lubrication? Let me take care of that for you."

He felt a slight shock from Qui-Gon, who seemed to disbelieve that his polite, obedient padawan could be so wanton, and smiled even as he took Qui-Gon's erection in his mouth. It needed work to return it to its fullness, work Obi-Wan was happy to do. If he was a wanton, then Qui-Gon bore a large responsibility for it -- Obi-Wan had lived a near ascetic life since realizing his feelings for Qui-Gon. Before that, things had been different. It had made his self-control all the more painful to know what he was missing. And made Obi-Wan all the more hedonistic now, as that control could finally be released.

He worked his mouth over the organ, feeling it swelling again even as he ensured that it was fully wet.

He stopped only when he felt Qui-Gon's hands moving to clutch him again.

Obi-Wan backed off, returning to lie on the bed, but not flat. He laid his chest down on the bed, and arched his hips high.

#I'm glad you're certain about this, love.#

Obi-Wan finished the thought for him, _because you are not_.

Hands smoothed over him, testing the resilience of his flesh, and then, fingers, moistened, came down to feel for his opening.

"Are you sure of this, Obi-Wan?"

_Yes!_ Obi-Wan said, nearly howling his frustration over Qui-Gon's over-gentleness.

The hand left him. "Because I find myself with doubts."

Part Thirty-One

Doubts? His master had doubts *now*?

Obi-Wan was torn between an un-Jedi-like desire to curse, and the need to resolve his master's uncertainties.

However, a caring concerned conversation about what they were doing, what they were going to do, and how badly Qui-Gon was misreading him that he would try to protect him, and exactly how it could be that Obi-Wan was both on bottom and quite safe and very much in control, just didn't fit in with the need to curse.

What he wanted was for Qui-Gon to continue *now*.

He settled on a raw plea. "I trust you, master. Please."

He felt Qui-Gon waver, knew that the almost completed bond was close to forcing his master to continue whether he liked it or not.

"It's what I want, master," Obi-Wan said, giving as much encouragement as he could think of.

Qui-Gon shuddered between Obi-Wan's legs. "I should not. I have little control left."

"Do you think you will gain more if you hesitate?" Obi-Wan asked persuasively. "The soul bond is driving this, I believe. If it is, then the longer you wait, the more of your control you'll lose." Obi-Wan projected his complete and utter sincerity. He remembered how he had nearly collapsed in tears only a few moments before when his body would not cooperate with the demands of the bond.

"You are right."

Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of what he looked like from Qui-Gon, his master's attention on his posterior. In Qui-Gon's eyes, Obi-Wan was canted ever so slightly to one side, right hip thrust slightly forward, making a cocky and enticing picture.

There was a definite advantage, Obi-Wan decided, to being mentally bonded with one's partner.

Qui-Gon's hesitation lasted only a moment longer, then reached forward again, part Obi-Wan, and letting his fingers plunge in to ready his lover.

At least that's what Qui-Gon *thought* he was doing. Obi-Wan clung to that knowledge. It made the experience somewhat more bearable.

Those fingers pushed easily in until they reached the ring of muscle inside. He tried to relax into it, but Qui-Gon's touch was uncharacteristically clumsy. Rushing himself, and hurting Obi-Wan as well. Fingers could bend and explore, unlike a certain other body part, and exploration wasn't what he wanted at all.

Even as he let himself fall forward, pulling away, Qui-Gon was recoiling. "I did not mean to hurt you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan flipped himself over. "I know."

He could feel his master's emotional withdrawal, a very bad thing indeed, and drew on their bond to steady him. _Let me help. As you helped me. I have an idea._

Qui-Gon's mental state was dubious. #I will not hurt you again, padawan. I cannot.#

Obi-Wan used the Force to come to a swift kneeling position before his also kneeling master. He reached out for Qui-Gon, caressing the sides of the other man's arms. "I understand. And you're right, it did hurt. I'm not asking you to hurt me."

Qui-Gon was trembling under Obi-Wan's hands, the strain clearly telling on the older man. "Then tell me what you are asking for, padawan, because my patience seems limited tonight."

"Let me prepare you again. And when I finish, simply take me."

"That does not sound like a wise plan."

Obi-Wan managed a grin, despite Qui-Gon's grim tone. "I'm reasonably certain that it will work. And this way, I emerge with my hair and head intact."

He paused a moment, waiting for a sign from his master that Qui-Gon was willing to begin again, and when none was forthcoming, took silence as assent.

Quickly, but thoroughly, he rewetted Qui-Gon's erection with his mouth, quite aware that any lack of care on his part here would directly affect his own well-being in a few moments.

When he'd finished, Obi-Wan turned on his stomach yet again, angling his hips up, knowing that they had caught Qui-Gon's eyes before.

#If I feel any pain from you, padawan, this is over,# Qui-Gon threatened.

"Yes, master." Privately he thought that if Qui-Gon's reactions were anything like Obi-Wan's own had been, his master would have difficulty stopping once he finally began.

Obi-Wan felt pushing against his entrance, and set himself to relax. Despite his advice, it seemed as though Qui-Gon was intent on toying with him. He felt the sensation as though he was being teased by the heat of the erection with no real penetration about to occur.

Obi-Wan growled low in his throat, ready to protest, when he realized that something *was* sliding into him. Wonderfully hard and warm, it eased inside, then was quickly pushing past the muscle that stiffened despite Obi-Wan's efforts. Finally, Qui-Gon was fully sheathed in him, and all Obi-Wan could think was, *Oh, yes. I like this. I want this.*

He felt Qui-Gon tasting his feelings, and was amazed by the degree of control his master still retained that he could even care about such a thing at a time like this, and doubly touched that Qui-Gon cared about him so much that he would think of his welfare even now.

It was touching... and completely unnecessary.

Obi-Wan pushed up further, bucking against Qui-Gon, and smiled with satisfaction as Qui-Gon finally grabbed onto his hips and began to thrust.

Obi-Wan continued to push back until those large hands grasped him more firmly, preventing him from moving. Qui-Gon, it seemed, wanted to do all the moving.

Obi-Wan was fine with that.

With each thrust in, Obi-Wan felt a surge of *something* go through him. He'd thought he could feel no more tonight, but apparently he had been wrong. Each time Qui-Gon pulled back, there was pain, but even that pain was mixed with pleasure, and he was linked to Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon's pleasure held no taint of pain, only overwhelming need, both for the sexual release and for the resolution of the tendrils of energy that hung around them, demanding that they be acknowledged, woven into the bond...

Impossibly, he felt himself coming again even as Qui-Gon pushed heavily against him, moaning with the force of his own orgasm, fingers leaving prints in Obi-Wan's pale flesh.

They were one. One finally, and together.

The Force reverberated around them with a deep pealing tone that sounded like the beating of an immense heart. _We did it, didn't we?_ Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon pulled him close. _We've completed the bond._

Wearily, Qui-Gon kissed him. #Yes, my Obi-Wan. Can't you feel it?#

_I wasn't sure what it was. The sound, I mean._

Qui-Gon cocked his head. #The only sound, love, is that of our hearts beating together.#

Obi-Wan made a face. _We went through all of this so that we could share a heartbeat? *That* we could have accomplished in an afternoon of meditation._

#An entire afternoon, padawan? Have let your training lapse so badly?#

Solemnly, Obi-Wan pretended to consider the issue. _I believe that I've not been getting enough personal attention from my master of late._

#That can be rectified.#

Content, soul as well as body, Qui-Gon fell gradually to sleep with his apprentice held close in his arms.

He could have let Obi-Wan go only with an effort, and even then, he wasn't sure. Should he be called to arms right now, to defend the Jedi temple against assault, even then, he would not let Obi-Wan part from him.

That bothered him, went against his Jedi training. He had to be able to detach from anything, anyone. An obsession had to be rooted out, had to be dealt with...

In his own exhausted sleep, Obi-Wan nuzzled closer, and Qui-Gon's arms tightened automatically.

It was the soul bond. It had to be the soul bond.

Because otherwise, he had somehow lost control of himself, and he had no idea how to deal with that.

Then the peace and lassitude swelled within him again, and Qui-Gon surrendered himself to it, letting it pull him all the way into slumber.

When he awoke in the early morning, Qui-Gon felt a brief moment of panic.

He knew that the panic was not caused by a dream. It must be something around him. Was something wrong? Something missing? He reached out with the Force, ascertaining that all was calm, he was indeed in his quarters, that his lightsaber was where he left it... everything was in order. What was wrong, then?

His emotions did not respond to the evidence of everything being in place, and Qui-Gon opened his eyes, prepared to seek out the source of his discomfort, whatever it might be.

And saw Obi-Wan's sleeping figure curled up on the bed, not touching his own, but rather positioned as he had been the last few nights, as though he had no right, no claim to touch Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon felt compelled to make contact with his padawan, and reached out, then hesitated. He had no wish to wake Obi-Wan. There was no need for the other man to rise this early.

But that driving sense of wrongness persisted, and finally, Qui-Gon laid his hand on Obi-Wan's bare shoulder.

As he had anticipated, Obi-Wan moved under his hand, stretching and yawning deeply.

But the wrongness had disappeared.

That was the source of the panic. He needed to touch Obi-Wan. He needed that contact, and nothing was right without it.

Qui-Gon froze into place, thinking deeply, forehead creased.

Obi-Wan turned over, looking sleepily at his master. When he saw Qui-Gon's face, all traces of dreaming disappeared from his eyes. "Master, what's wrong?"

Qui-Gon contemplated not telling him, then sighed and gave the information to Obi-Wan freely. #I am troubled.#

Obi-Wan waited patiently.

#You... All was not well this morning until I touched you. Despite our soul bond, despite the events of last evening, I still have not completed our bond properly.#

Obi-Wan caught the image of himself sleeping peacefully, rolled away from Qui-Gon.

_I don't understand, master._

Qui-Gon let his hand fall, and was again assailed by the need to touch Obi-Wan. He should deny the need. Should start the process of learning to behave like an ordinary person despite the soul bond. He knew it was possible. Had seen other soul bonded couples and knew that they were able to manage this. But the need cried out within him...

Obi-Wan took the decision away from him by moving close to Qui-Gon, snuggling into his side.

And that felt right. More than right, as though this were the shape of things to come, a vision of the future.

He felt Obi-Wan's puzzled concern for him. He took the conversation to the level of words, to hide as much of his feelings as he could. "You do not seem to share my difficulty. I am concerned that my own deficiency will harm you, and that, possibly, there is nothing more that can be done to repair the problem. We have gone through the mastering of the emotional and the physical -- if there are still problems, it may be that we will not be able to complete the bond at all. And the consequences of that would be severe."

Immediately, he felt reassurance through their bond. Obi-Wan's new confidence in him and in the bond should be heartening. But instead he felt only a sad anger that it was he who would be responsible yet again for shattering his padawan.

He rested his head against Obi-Wan's hair. Why couldn't he simply live in the perfect moment that was last night?

Part Thirty-Two

_Because you can't,_ Obi-Wan said, from his position tucked under Qui-Gon's arm.

That remark came as a shock, and Qui-Gon was surprised at how hurt he felt at the rejection. He mastered the emotion, and let his reaction slip into the Force. Obi-Wan's opinion was his opinion, and wishing to change it would not make his padawan's thoughts any less -- or more -- accurate. #What do you mean?#

_Only that we cannot live in any one moment. Each moment must give way to the next._

Obi-Wan had heard his hurt. Qui-Gon had felt the startlement, then the flow of comfort from his padawan.

Comfort he was receiving now. "That is not quite what I meant."

Obi-Wan switched easily to speech as well. "It's still true. Today is a different moment than yesterday. If you feel differently today than then, is that so surprising?"

Qui-Gon frowned at his padawan, who was not looking at him to see the frown. Taking lessons from his padawan always reminded him somewhat of receiving a lesson from Master Yoda. As though he'd suddenly been bashed in the knee with a stick.

#That's not quite what I meant.#

_You said that already._

#It's still true.#

Obi-Wan sat up, his knees coming up as well. He folded his arms around them, all the while staring solemnly at his master. His toes were tucked under Qui-Gon's body, their only point of contact. _I said *that* already._

Qui-Gon thought back, and sighed. "Yes, so you did."

He was trying to avoid a real conversation with Obi-Wan. The repetition of phrases only confirmed it. He did not want to hurt Obi-Wan, not again. But evasion, conscious or subconscious, wasn't working particularly well for him.

He looked up. Obi-Wan continued to watch him, perfectly still.

Painfully, Qui-Gon began to speak, this time from the heart. "Our bond is damaged. You will be harmed by it. I find myself reluctant to bear that pain." For himself, he could stand it, had dealt with pain. But not for Obi-Wan.

"Isn't there usually a period of adjustment after a bonding?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes."

"Doesn't it take time to become used to the bond? To having someone constantly with you?"

"Yes, again. But Obi-Wan..."

Obi-Wan shook his head, and continued speaking. "Didn't you have the same feelings I did before we recognized the bond? After it formed, but before we knew about it? I remember being even more lonely than before, despite our sharing of emotions. It was good that we had, but I needed to reach out for your presence constantly so that I knew you were still there."

Qui-Gon did remember. "Yes, but..."

Obi-Wan would not allow his master to speak. "Doesn't it make sense that we might feel some of the same things after sharing our bodies?"

"Yes." This time he reached out to Obi-Wan, physically placing a finger over his padawan's lips to prevent him from speaking. "However, *you* do not share the same need I felt this morning when I woke and you were not in contact with me. You were able to handle what I could not."

Obi-Wan's eyes went down to his lips, and belatedly, Qui-Gon removed his finger. To his resigned dismay, it went almost automatically to Obi-Wan's interlaced fingers, stroking that clasping of hands.

"Because I did not wake up next to you? Master, please."

"Please what, my Obi-Wan?"

"Believe in me a little." Obi-Wan's eyes had changed, and Qui-Gon understood now the emotions that he'd been feeling from his padawan. Frustration, yes, and directed at him, but not for the reason he'd thought.

"I believe in you a great deal, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan looked at him dubiously, but did not comment.

"What would convince you, love?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan captured the finger that had been teasing him, pulling it to him until he had Qui-Gon's full hand in his own. "If you cannot trust me or my feelings for you..." Obi-Wan began, then shook his head. "No. If you do not, then there is no point in my continuing, is there? There's nothing more to say."

Obi-Wan stood, getting up from the bed, and gathered yesterday's cast-off clothing in his arms. Pain radiated from him.

Not anger, though. Nor hate. Again, Obi-Wan had resigned himself to Qui-Gon not being willing to accept him. Easily, as though it were something he did on a daily basis.

Qui-Gon felt the bite of tears. "Wait."

Obedient through years of habit, Obi-Wan stopped and looked at him, face blank.

Calming himself, feeling Obi-Wan's pain as his own, Qui-Gon said, "Please, love. Give me another chance. I've made too many mistakes with you already. I only wished not to hurt you again by my failure in this bond. I meant no slight to you."

Tentatively, Obi-Wan's mind reached for his, and Qui-Gon opened himself, letting his emotions show clearly.

To Qui-Gon's relief, Obi-Wan relaxed his own mind, not keeping himself so tightly contained.

Yet in that relaxation, Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's sense of failure. That once again, this time by reacting too quickly to something Qui-Gon had not meant the way Obi-Wan thought he meant, his padawan felt that he made the wrong choice and disappointed his master.

_As I have, have I not?_ came the quiet question, backed up with pain.

Qui-Gon shook his head. Forget Jedi serenity. Forget control. Forget mastering's one's emotions. If they were going to find serenity, he was going to have to act.

He flowed to his feet, and took swift hold of Obi-Wan, eyes boring directly into the other man. "I will tell you when you have failed me, Obi-Wan. It is not yours to decide. And you have not done so here."

Obi-Wan stared up at him, eyes wide.

"Yes, Obi-Wan. I mean it. You have not failed me."

He let the words slip free in the privacy of his own mind. *_I_ have failed me.*

Arms went around him, as Obi-Wan let go of his burden, and leaned into Qui-Gon's grip. Qui-Gon let his hands loosen, and accepted the embrace. "We should have our bond evaluated by an expert. Then we will know what we need to do to further complete our bond. If there is any failure, it has been on my part. I have been slow to acknowledge my own feelings, and that, if anything, is the cause of any disorder."

Obi-Wan examined him closely. "Should I repeat your own words to you again, master?" He licked his lips, and when Qui-Gon did not answer, stretched his hand up to stroke his master's cheek. "You have not failed me. If anything, you've given me everything. Everything worth having. From the moment you called me padawan. Last night," he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, this time with bare emotion shining in his gaze, "was a gift I will never forget. Not ever. That you might be my soul bonded love as well... I can hardly encompass the joy of it."

"Obi-Wan--" Qui-Gon swallowed. He couldn't find the words for what he needed to say, not even in his mind, and took refuge in action, using his hold on his padawan to pull Obi-Wan closer. He bent over Obi-Wan and kissed him thoroughly, tongue thrusting in to claim Obi-Wan's mouth, and claim that marvelous young man as well.

Obi-Wan responded with equal passion, pressing his hips against Qui-Gon and rubbing sensuously against him.

His very naked hips.

Qui-Gon broke off the kiss, and leaned his head against Obi-Wan's. "This is not promising for our discipline, padawan."

Obi-Wan's features creased into a smile. "Perhaps we should have a schedule?"

Qui-Gon laughed, caught off-guard by the comment. He pulled back, no longer as melancholy. "I think that would be counter-productive. I believe spontaneity is considered useful in this activity."

Obi-Wan gave the idea due consideration, frowning and looking away, then turned back to Qui-Gon. "I don't see why one could not be spontaneous on schedule, master."

"Very well then, we shall have a schedule."

Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon through his lashes. "Is now on the schedule?"

Qui-Gon made a show of mentally checking to see what they had to do that day. "I believe that we need to meet with Master Etil about the state of our bond."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, master."

Obi-Wan's complete submission to his wishes both pleased and saddened him. It was the proper behavior for a padawan to show his master, and all at the same time, not. He would have to work further with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon decided. Encourage his independence more. One day, Obi-Wan would be a knight, and would need the experience in thinking for himself. Not to mention how the soul bond affected the dynamics of their relationship.

_Should I be insulted, master? I believe I've had a thought of my own on one or two occasions._

Obi-Wan's mental voice was teasing, but Qui-Gon felt the seriousness of the question. "What would you like to do at this moment, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan quirked his eyebrow. _Do I really need to say it?_

Given that his padawan's erection was brushing against his thigh... #I suppose not.# "But what then is stopping you from asking?"

Obi-Wan frowned again. "You said that we needed to see Master Etil."

"I did. Why did you not question me?"

"It was what you wanted, master." Obi-Wan was genuinely puzzled.

"It was not an order. You only need obey my orders, padawan. Not my wishes."

Obi-Wan considered this carefully. "I think I understand, master."

"Do you?"

"Yes." And, taking Qui-Gon off-guard yet again, Obi-Wan pushed him hard on the chest with Force-aided power. As he landed on the bed, Obi-Wan leaped gracefully on top of him. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "I suppose you do understand."

Part Thirty-Three

When he awoke again, now quite late into the morning, Qui-Gon felt a brief moment of panic.

Was something wrong? This time he opened his eyes first, before doing anything else, and saw Obi-Wan curled into his side. Qui-Gon took a deep breath, and let the knowledge sink in with the oxygen. He held Obi-Wan. His padawan was there. Qui-Gon could feel the warmth of his body, could taste his mind.

The panic ebbed and finally slid away entirely. He had his Obi-Wan. He would be all right.

Why was that thought so reassuring?

Yes, he knew the soul bond was influencing him, but on some level he felt disturbed by the shift in his priorities. He had not yet come to terms with the new value system that had been imposed upon him. Once the Force had been the most important thing in his life. By tradition and training, his priority should have been the Jedi. But he felt that the two -- the Jedi and the Force -- were too often conflated. They were not necessarily the same thing, and he preferred to use his own judgement in following the Force's dictate. Himself, his own needs, he placed well below that.

But now, something else seemed to have become more important than any of those priorities. And that something was Obi-Wan.

It went against all of Qui-Gon's training and experience to have anything be more important than the Force. No one person was worth that much.

Except that, right in this moment, he knew with perfect clarity that, for this, he would have stayed on Bandomeer with Obi-Wan if he had known then that there truly was no hope of Obi-Wan becoming a Jedi.

Would even have aided Obi-Wan if it had been he, instead of Xanatos, who had set out to conquer a planet.

That none of that had occurred, Qui-Gon was fortunate. He was truly fortunate that his life's love had a good heart, and that they shared the same goals. Together, they could serve the Force, and in that way, Qui-Gon would be able to combine his priorities and so let neither lapse.

As it would have to be, for he knew now that he could not let Obi-Wan go.

Obi-Wan woke for the second time that morning, but this time much more pleasantly. Strong lips were placing kisses on his neck. He stretched languorously and then turned over to face Qui-Gon.

"Good morning master," he said, smiling. He leaned in for another kiss.

"Good morning, padawan."

Qui-Gon met him halfway. The kiss was no less satisfying for being delivered without the pressure of the soul bond demanding that they mate. It felt like coming home, like the same sensation he had gotten when he had returned to these quarters to stay. Like Qui-Gon had always felt to him, even when he had not known why he felt that way. No mere place would ever be home to him again. Home would always be this man.

Their lips melded, and even with the blankets between them -- Qui-Gon under and Obi-Wan over -- heat stirred again.

Before anything could move forward, Obi-Wan pulled away from the kiss and stood up. Smiling, he collected the laundry.

#Where are you going?#

He tossed a grin over his shoulder at his master. _I believe you said something about a schedule?_

#Oh, yes. Blast it.#

He stopped in the doorway, leaning back against the frame. "Master, I believe I would recommend meditation before the morning meal, and certainly before we pay a visit upon Master Etil. I'm fairly sure that Jedi masters are not supposed to curse."

Obi-Wan ducked the pillow tossed at him, and still smiling, went to ready himself for their day.

Ruefully, Qui-Gon admitted that his padawan was correct. Oh, not for the reason Obi-Wan had mentioned. But it was true that he needed to integrate his feelings and experiences of the last night. Especially before facing Master Etil.

He padded naked into the bathroom, beating Obi-Wan there. The first shower was his. Hah!

_We could always share,_ came the playful thought from his apprentice.

#I don't believe that would be conducive to my meditation.#

_I apologize, master._ The 'apology' contained definite overtones of teasing. _I didn't realize that you were in the habit of meditating in the shower._

Qui-Gon considered the hour, considered that neither of them had eaten, and exactly how long this shower would take if he invited Obi-Wan in with him. The reasonable thing to do would be to say 'no' and forget the matter, especially given Obi-Wan's apparent opinion of his stamina -- which, he admitted to himself, seemed to be holding true so far.

No. Easy to say. It would be simple...

...and this was exactly why he needed to meditate. Because he wasn't being reasonable. Because even though the answer was so simple, he still couldn't say what he needed to say.

He stood in the shower, water coursing over his body, taking the dried sweat, and yes, even the smell of Obi-Wan away. He could not come to a decision, nor make an action.

Then Obi-Wan looked in. Not trying to speak above the noise of the water, he spoke directly into Qui-Gon's mind, _I've placed a clean towel here for you._

He'd stepped into the shower without making sure he had a towel. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to groan. #Thank you, Obi-Wan.#

_You're welcome._

Obi-Wan didn't leave.

#Yes, padawan?# Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan stepped into the shower, crowding the small space with his nude body pressed against Qui-Gon's.

#What are you doing?# Qui-Gon asked mildly.

_Joining you. I seem to recall there being a lecture earlier about how I should act upon your orders, and not upon your wishes, should I have a differing opinion._

#I meant,# Qui-Gon said repressively, #that you should *voice* your opinion if it differs from mine.#

_That's strange,_ Obi-Wan replied, filling his palm with soap and bringing it up to Qui-Gon's shoulders. _I remember you being very... enthusiastic about my acting on my opinions._

Qui-Gon sighed, and turned his back on Obi-Wan, allowing the other man to lather him. #This was not what I wanted.#

He felt Obi-Wan controlling the self-doubt that rose within his padawan at those words. _Then what *do* you want?_

#Honestly? For my life to make sense again. For calm and order to return.#

Obi-Wan's hands came around his body, lathering his chest as well. _Is there a need to wait? I believe all of these things are true. We are told, are we not, to be mindful of the future? And yet to live in the moment? To trust our emotions, even while the Jedi code teaches that 'There is no emotion; there is peace.' Our lives are full of contradictions._

Qui-Gon felt the impulse to switch to teacher mode and begin arguing the philosophies of those statements, but ruthlessly tamped it. #Yes?#

_So might it not also be true that a wish for calm and order is also a wish for disorder?_

Obi-Wan's hands paused as he thought. _Or that calm and order proceed from disorder? Because I am certain that having you as my soul bonded is the best thing that has happened in my life since you accepted me as your padawan, and I count all of what I went through, all of my struggles, as being worthwhile because they brought me to this point. Had I not struggled, had I not endured those trials, I might not be here now._ His hands returned to their motion, caressing now instead of impersonally washing. _And that would have been a great waste._

Qui-Gon let himself relax into the solidness of Obi-Wan standing behind him. Slim, and smaller than Qui-Gon, his padawan was nonetheless strong. A strength he had been forgetting. #Forgive me again. I-- This probably the best reason I can give you for why I wished to meditate instead of having you near me. I am *not* sure of my mind, and not behaving as I should. I am not even certain what that means. I feel I must meditate.# He felt himself shaking, and turned to hold Obi-Wan's face between his large palms. #But that does not mean that I do not love you.#

Obi-Wan nodded, serious. _I understand now, master. I should not have pressed you._

#I am glad you did. I only regret that I cannot respond as we both would wish.#

Obi-Wan stepped back and, carefully neutral said, _I will have breakfast ready for you when you are finished with your meditation._

#Thank you, love,# Qui-Gon said, and meant it deeply.

Before his meditations, Qui-Gon had ascertained that Etil would be ready to see them in the afternoon. Which coincidentally fell not too long after the end of their meal. It truly had been late morning when they arose.

But now that was over and done, and they were on their way to see someone who would tell them what was true, and what was not.

He believed in Etil for that. He did not approve of the other master's methods, but she spoke her mind, and saw into people with astonishing insight.

Qui-Gon clasped Obi-Wan's hand as they stood before Etil's door.

"Yes, yes, come in. I know you're there. Why don't you just walk up to the Council and tell everyone? It'd be more subtle."

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow, but stepped inside anyway, Obi-Wan a half step behind. "What do you mean?"

She waved a hand in their direction. "You. You two. I'm not so old that I can't see anymore. The light you're giving off could blind somebody. Are you sure you're ready to go out in public yet?"

"I felt that we needed to see you," Qui-Gon said, relying on formality, as ever, when dealing with this master. "I am uncertain as to whether the soul bond has been completed properly. As you were able to sense the bond before either myself or my padawan, I thought that you would be the most appropriate resource at this time."

"What you need is time alone. Make a public announcement if you want, but then stay out of the way. You can't go around glowing like that."

"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked quietly. "Is there a danger?"

She shrugged. "Depends on what you mean. I'd think it'd be embarrassing to walk around knowing that everyone is seeing that. You don't belong out of your rooms until you can stuff all that back inside where it belongs."

"That was why I sought your aid," Qui-Gon said. "I've attempted to exert control on the soul bond, but my meditations have not helped."

She threw up her hands, beginning to pace. "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots. Of *course* meditation didn't work. From what you're giving off, you finished the bonding, what? This morning? Last night?" She didn't wait for confirmation, apparently feeling confident in her assessment. "You should be wrapped up in the bond. Getting used to it. Not trying to *control* it, for Light's sake."

"I thought you said we needed to control it, that we shouldn't be in public until we did," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon nodded.

Etil stared them both down. "Did I *say* control? Why does everyone always think of controlling things instead of letting them happen naturally?" She stopped pacing, and stood in front of them, as firmly rooted as a tree. "Let me put this in little words. Go back to your rooms. Stay there. Have lots of sex. Don't come out."

"We will have to leave eventually," Qui-Gon pointed out.

"You don't seem to understand me. Go to your quarters. Both of you. Stay there. Forget about control, forget about meditation. Forget about being Jedi. Whatever you two think it means, I'm sure it'll only get in the way of what's supposed to happen."

"Which is?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't need instructions or rules for this. If you had them, you'd just mess it up. Do what comes naturally. Get used to each other. You'll know when it's time to come out."

Qui-Gon felt more than a little skeptical about that. "How will we know--"

She cut him off. "Look, if you don't come out in a few weeks, I'll send a search party. Now go. Get back to your rooms. I don't want to see you again for at least a week."

They apparently did not move fast enough for her. "Go! Now! Shoo!"

Qui-Gon acquiesced, drawing Obi-Wan along with him, until they stood in the hallway.

"Master?" a quiet voice asked from his side.

"Yes, padawan?" Qui-Gon responded as they began walking.

"Do you see a glow?"

"No."

"Oh." A pause. "Do you think it's there then?"

"I see no reason for Master Etil to lie. And she is a healer as well as a Jedi master. What she sees may reflect her training as a healer."

"Are we going to take her advice?"

Qui-Gon thought about it, and took Obi-Wan's hand again, tucking it within his own. "Do you see any other choice?"

He felt Obi-Wan considering the problem, and weighing Etil's likely actions. "Not really."

"That's what I think also."

Part Thirty-Four

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan returned to their room. During the short journey, Obi-Wan was hyper-conscious of the people around them, wondering who, if anyone, could see the glow that Master Etil had mentioned.

Some people seemed to notice something different about them, because they were attracting more than a usual amount of attention. Normally the sight of a master and padawan walking through the halls of the Temple was so ordinary as not to be remarked upon. Normally.

But if he couldn't see a glow, and Qui-Gon couldn't see a glow, did that mean then it was only visible to people other than them? Because the staring *was* fairly obvious.

If the glow could indeed be seen, they didn't really *need* to have a formal public recognition of their bond. Not that he'd had been looking forward to that, of course...

Then Obi-Wan realized what everyone was staring at. Not some mystical glow, after all. Just a simple physical thing. He was still holding his master's hand, like a three-year-old child or, well, a new lover.

He blushed, and Qui-Gon looked over at him, aware immediately of the cause through their bond. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Obi-Wan."

But Qui-Gon dropped his grip anyway.

*To keep from embarrassing me,* Obi-Wan thought. *He is protecting me again.*

#Always, my Obi-Wan.#

Determinedly, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand. _Master._

Qui-Gon favored him with an amused look. "Yes?"

_You have to stop protecting me._

#Why?# Qui-Gon asked, still with the hint of a smile. #Or if that bothers you, perhaps instead, you could protect me as well. Would that suit your sense of fairness?#

The door to their quarters cut off any reply he might have made to his master's comment. Instead of talking, Obi-Wan stared at the entrance. Once they went in, they would not be coming out again. Not for several days.

He would have Qui-Gon's attention all to himself. And a formidable force indeed was a Jedi master's full attention. There would be little for them to do -- their quarters were not large enough for more than the most restrained of exercises. And meditation had been ruled out.

As lovemaking had most decidedly been ruled in. He wondered if everyone could hear the blood throbbing in his veins or it was just him.

Qui-Gon stepped inside their rooms, and gave Obi-Wan a quizzical look.

Maybe he was hearing things. Maybe that was why Qui-Gon was staring at him, like he'd forgotten something.

#Would you like to come in, Obi-Wan?#

"Oh!" With a start, he woke from his reverie, and entered. *Yes, very much. Very very much.* He resisted the urge to watch the door closing behind them, sealing out everything and everyone else.

Instead, he watched Qui-Gon pull off his cloak and put it away.

"I don't believe that I have any further need of that for the time being."

Obi-Wan followed suit, folding his cloak neatly. "Nor I, master."

When they had finished, Qui-Gon held an arm out for Obi-Wan, who took it gladly, stepping into the half-embrace. "It seems," Qui-Gon began, after a long moment spent simply holding him and being held, "that I have been wrong about many things."

"Wrong?" Obi-Wan asked. "Surely we have both been mistaken, but..."

"No, Obi-Wan. Listen to me. I have been wrong. Wrong about the fact of our life-bonding, wrong about you."

Obi-Wan felt strongly protective at the moment. Qui-Gon was not wrong. He was very, very right. The epitome of rightness. Yes, he could make mistakes, but he put things back in order and made amends as soon as he uncovered his errors. His master was a man of honor and integrity. All of these things Obi-Wan wanted to say. But Qui-Gon had told him to listen, a wish that carried the weight of an order, and so he remained silent.

But he had to do something. Unable to speak, he instead burrowed into Qui-Gon's warm bulk, and hoped that his acceptance of his master, his love, would be enough to counteract the guilt Qui-Gon seemed to feel.

Qui-Gon's head dipped, chin resting against Obi-Wan's head. "I've thought too much on these matters, upon our bonding, and failed to listen to my feelings. Failed even to recognize that I had feelings. So much could have been lost in my refusal to consider ever loving again. I will do better in the future. We have time now, time where it seems I will have nothing to do but expose the feelings I believed I did not have, and learn to listen to them."

Obi-Wan twisted his head and kissed Qui-Gon's throat, the only exposed flesh that he could reach. Lips hung tantalizingly just out of range. "You are forgiven, master."

"And you are loved."

Obi-Wan pulled back, considering Qui-Gon carefully. "But love is not that important. I remember that."

"I told you that, didn't I?"

"Yes, master."

Qui-Gon sighed, and held him more closely. "That is still true. As you have seen today, in my actions. I love you dearly, my Obi-Wan, and yet, I have hurt you. I do not doubt that things will continue to be this way, as we learn the boundaries of our bonding and continue your training. I can only ask now for your patience and understanding as we face these challenges together."

"That we face them together is all that I would wish for, master."

"That you may have."

Obi-Wan smiled. He was satisfied with that. He did not like the thought that there would be further pain to come, but did not flinch from it either. He was Jedi, he would deal with it when it came. What mattered, what had always mattered most, was now taken care of. Qui-Gon. His center had been restored and would never be torn from him again. His soul was joined with his master's from now into eternity. That would have to be enough, was more than enough. With that assured, he would gladly face all the trials of the future. But first... "Didn't Master Etil say something about sex?"

Qui-Gon's mouth quirked into a smile. "Yes, padawan. I believe she did." -the end- 


End file.
